Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
And I state it without anger, without the outrage that I’d felt last night.
It felt like an insult. An intrusion.
Because it came from him, this protection.
But tonight, it doesn’t.
Tonight, it feels… safe.
Maybe because he did protect me, from Brad.
Maybe because after what Lucas did tonight, completely sober and without influence, Reign was the first person I thought of. The first person I wanted to see.
“Took my eyes off you for ten goddamn seconds,” he says finally, his voice pure gravel and jagged edges. “And the next thing I know my best friend isn’t there anymore and that fucker’s mauling you.”
My heart clenches in my chest and I bite my lip. “Thank you.”
His chest moves on a large breath.
“For saving me from Brad.”
Another large breath.
I don’t know why I say it then, but I feel like I have to. “I’m not yours to protect though.”
And then, it looks like we’re breathing, existing as one.
If my breaths are shaky, his are shuddering.
If my heart is racing inside my chest, I can feel his pulse going hundreds of miles a second.
I bet his blood feels as hot as mine. His skin definitely feels as hot as mine.
And when he inches even closer, bringing his mouth only a hairbreadth away from me, I bet he feels something in his tight gut like I do in my soft belly.
Something writhing and twisting.
Swirling and swooping.
“You are,” he rasps.
I flinch. “What?”
Very hard.
There’s no way he didn’t notice that.
There’s no way he isn’t noticing how my fingers have become claws now and how I’m dragging them over his pulse, his smooth, hot skin. How I’m scratching him and how I can’t stop.
Because look at what he’s doing to me.
Look at what he not only just said — the most bizarre words ever — but also the way he’s staring at me. At my face, all flushed and definitely pink; my trembling lips; the pulse at the base of my throat.
My dress.
God, the way that he stares at my dress, the parts that it covers and then the parts it doesn’t.
My heaving chest, my shoulders, my arms.
My legs.
And it’s all even more obscene than it was back there, back at St. Mary’s, by the side of the road.
Because he isn’t doing it to get a rise out of me.
There isn’t a mocking twist in his lips or amusement in his eyes.
He wears only one expression in this moment: possessiveness.
Red hot and burning.
Like I’m really his. Like I’ve been his for some time now. Years.
Since the first moment he saw me. Since before that even.
And then, he explains to me how.
“You’re my best friend’s girl, aren’t you? So you are. You are mine. To protect. To shield. To guard, to shelter and to keep safe,” he pauses after rattling out all the synonyms, “from every motherfucker out there. From every goddamn motherfucker who thinks he can pounce on you now. Who thinks you’re defenseless and alone and fair fucking game. Because you’re not. You’re under my fucking protection, you understand? So I’ll watch you. I’ll keep an eye on you and,” his eyes drop to my mouth then, making it tingle and swell, “I’ll choke the life out of anyone who thinks they can put their hands on you.”
I think I fell asleep.
While riding on his bike.
My chest plastered to his muscular back. My arms wrapped around his sleek waist. My cheek pressed on his shoulder. The only way I know for sure that I’m waking up now is that I blink my eyes open when we reach St. Mary’s, and realize that I have to untangle myself from him to get down.
But I don’t think anyone can blame me for falling asleep.
In fact, it’s a surprise that I haven’t fallen asleep the two times before I’ve ridden with him.
He’s just so warm, with summer stitched into his very skin.
And strong with all these corded muscles.
But I guess the first when I rode with him, I was still shocked that I was wrapped around him like that. And the second time — which was earlier tonight — I was too angry at him and nervous at what the night had in store for me.
And as disastrous as everything has turned out to be, this time around I managed to fall asleep because something has changed.
I can feel it.
Between him and me.
He feels safe now.
It’s crazy and bizarre because only a couple of hours ago, even though we were working together, I was still so distrustful of him. But it feels like I’ve lived a lifetime in these short hours and now I’ve come out on the other side of it.
So standing by his bike, I eye his bruises again. “Did you deserve it?”
And then I wait.
With bated breath.
To see if he’s lived a lifetime in these short hours like me or not.