Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
I certainly fucking didn't.
I rap on her door, holding my breath—not entirely sure she'll open it if she sees me on the other side.
The muffled sound of shuffling slips through cracks and then silence.
"Please open the door, Tempest," I murmur, my voice a gritty rasp. "I know you're standing on the other side right now, watching me."
No response.
"Please, sweetheart. I just need to know that you're all right."
To my surprise, the door swings open.
My fucking heart clenches at the sight of her standing there, eyes rimmed in red and puffy, tears still streaking her face.
Fuck. Has she been crying all night?
She throws the door wide, her bottom lip wobbling. "They let you out."
Of course they let me out. I'm a billionaire, and the fucker who put his hands on her is a tourist who had a pocket full of pills. There was security footage of what went down, too. Since the cop opted not to add charges for attempted assault of a law enforcement officer, my only charges were inciting a damn bar fight.
Memphis Hughes bailed me out an hour ago, giving me hell the whole goddamn time. The prick thought it was hilarious that I spent a night in jail for a bar fight. Friend or not, I wouldn't have called the asshole just to spare myself the lifetime of amusement he's going to get out of this, but there's no way I was calling the old man.
Priest and Brantley both have their own shit. Priest just found out about the entire goddamn life that was stolen from him when he was abducted. Brantley's got his father's murder and his wife to deal with. They don't have time to deal with my shit. And the last place Lena belongs is anywhere near a jail.
Jake wasn't an option, either. He can't keep a goddamn secret to save his life. My grandfather would have shown up five minutes behind him.
"Yeah, they let me out." I lean against the doorframe, checking for injuries, fighting the urge to pull her into my arms. Jesus. Even tear-stained and trembling, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on. I want to touch her, taste her, bury myself so deep inside her that nothing can hurt her again.
"You okay, sweetheart?" I ask instead.
She stares at me, her amber eyes wide. "I should be asking you that."
"I'm fine, Tempest," I promise. I'd endure a hell of a lot worse than a night in a cell to keep her safe. God. Six fucking weeks and one day, and she's completely unraveled me.
"Um, I tried to bail you out last night, but they wouldn't let," she admits, looking away. "They said you had to see the judge first."
I stare at her, my heart pounding like a fucking drum. "Why?"
"B-Because it was my fault that you were there in the first place," she says, still not meeting my gaze.
Bullshit. We both know that isn't why she did it, dammit. Just like we both know she isn't running from this marriage because of any of the crap she spouted this morning.
I step closer, crowding her. "Why?" I ask again, my voice low. Demanding. Just once today, I want the truth from her.
"Because it was my fault you were there," she repeats stubbornly.
"Why?" I growl, clenching my hands at my sides, desperately fighting the urge to reach for her. To drag her into my arms and kiss the truth from that perfect, lying mouth.
"Because I care, okay?" she cries, those gorgeous eyes finally locking on mine. "Because I care about you even though I'm going to be the one who pays for it in the end."
And there it is. The truth.
She isn't running from this marriage for any of the bullshit she said this morning. She's running because she wants me. Because she feels something for my sorry ass, even though she knows I'll probably fuck it up.
She's running scared, just like I am. But unlike me, she actually had the balls to fly out here.
And I fucking let her down.
Christ, I'm an asshole and a fucking coward. But if there's one thing I'm not, it's a liar. I can't lie to her or to myself. She's the only thing I've ever wanted this badly. The only woman who has ever gotten under my skin or even made me want to consider the shit I'm thinking about right now.
Going to jail for her was easy when I'm pretty fucking certain I'd blow my entire goddamn life apart just for a taste of her.
I groan, the sound ripped from deep in my chest as I yank her into my arms, causing her to topple into me. The heat of her body against mine sears me, burning a path right to my fucking heart, lighting me up from the inside out.
I crush my mouth to hers in a bruising kiss, pouring every ounce of pent-up desire into it. Every fucking second of longing. Of denial.