Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Our breathing comes back to normal, we hold each other, me still wedged against the door, his head still tucked firmly into my neck. His sweat-slicked skin beneath my fingers, his damp, dark hair tickling my cheek, our bodies pressed together skin to skin. Hard and soft. Dark and light. We're a contradiction in every way.
I run my fingertips along the skin of his back, my fingernails raking along his muscles. I kiss along the line of his neck. I love him so much. In the few short days I’ve been here he’s made me love him.
I lower my legs from around the sharp line of his hips and he carries me to the bench, opening the small circular window to let in a rush of cool, fresh air.
We sit silently for a while, tangled together, the heat of the sauna matched only by the heat between us. Grady brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly tender.
"You’re dangerous," he says, echoing the words he spoke the other night.
"So are you," I reply, my voice soft but steady.
He chuckles, pulling me closer. "Guess we’re a good match, then."
As I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, I realize he’s right. For the first time in a long time, I feel like in his arms is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Chapter Nine
Sarah
The Devil’s Brew is warm and lively, a stark contrast to the icy wind that whips through town. I sit across from Grady, nursing a mug of hot cider while Bear sprawls under the table at our feet. The pub smells like wood smoke and grilled burgers, and I’m just starting to feel like I might actually belong here.
Grady, as usual, is all gruff silence, his flannel–the gold and navy one he found me wearing in the middle of the night and then fucked me in–rolled up to his elbows and his dark eyes scanning the room. Occasionally, his gaze lands on me, lingering just long enough to make my stomach do a strange, fluttery flip.
I’m not sure how a man can look so effortlessly intimidating and captivating at the same time, but Grady has perfected the art.
“You’re quiet,” I say, trying to break the silence.
“Always am,” he replies, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“True,” I tease, “but I thought maybe you’d run out of brooding for the day.”
His smirk widens. “Brooding’s a full-time job, sunshine.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that sneaks onto my lips. He’s impossible, but somehow, that only makes him more appealing.
The conversation is light, playful even, until I catch a snippet of something from a nearby table. I stiffen, my fingers tightening around the handle of my mug.
“She stole from the school,” a woman says, her voice low but clear enough to carry. “Got fired and ran off before they could press charges.”
My heart stops. It’s her. My old boss–the superintendent of the last school I was at. The voice I hoped never to hear again.
I glance toward the source, and sure enough, there she is—Carla, the woman who made my life a living hell every day and then fucked my ex for good measure–sitting at the bar with a glass of wine and a smug grin, talking to a group of men who look vaguely familiar. Ridge, Zane, Slate. Grady’s friends.
Panic claws at my chest, cold and suffocating. I look to Grady, hoping for reassurance, but his expression is unreadable. He’s listening, his jaw tight, but he doesn’t say a word.
The air feels thick, suffocating. Misunderstanding his silence, I assume the worst. He believes it.
The rest of the meal passes in a blur. I pick at my food, avoiding Grady’s gaze, while the voices at the bar continue to echo in my ears. When Grady finally pays the tab and stands, I follow him out into the cold, my heart heavy.
Bear sits between us as we drive back to the cabin. The snow crunches under our boots as we climb the porch steps a few minutes later, and the silence between us feels heavier than ever.
“Sarah,” Grady says finally, his voice low and rough.
I glance at him, my throat tight. “What?”
“You’ve gone quiet.”
I force a smile. “Guess I’m taking a page out of your book.”
His brows draw together, but he doesn’t press. We reach the cabin, and he holds the door open for me, his eyes searching mine as I step inside.
The warmth of the cabin wraps around me, but it does nothing to chase away the cold sinking into my chest.
Later that night, I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at my suitcase. My mind races, replaying the conversation at the pub, the whispers, the stares. The idea of Grady’s friends thinking I’m some kind of criminal, of him thinking it, is unbearable.