Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
I hold her face tenderly in my hands, making sure our eyes are locked. Soft kisses trace the outline of her lips before I whisper, "With you, every moment feels like freedom." Another kiss. "You have me completely sweet girl."
She teases, "You sound smitten, Fox Miller."
“You better believe I am,” I confess. It still feels unreal that a woman like her would choose someone like me. But here she is, stealing all the air from my lungs. She breathed life back into me.
"Good, because you’re never getting rid of me now,” she giggles.
“Hell if I’d ever want to,” I hum against her lips before pulling her into another passionate kiss. "My sexy, precious girl..."
And then Buttercup comes blazing through the loft, hopping on the ledge at Amelia’s side and letting out a long hiss, swiping at Jet’s wet nose in her face. He barks once, tail wagging before the cat launches off the ledge and onto the bed before zipping back down the loft stairs, Jet hot on her fluffy tail.
A moment later I hear a single bark and then the telltale swish of the doggy door swinging open and closed.
“Shit–” I pull out of my girl, helping her down the ledge and groaning, “they just went outside.”
Chapter Eleven
Amelia
The woods around the Phantom River are eerily quiet as twilight falls. I’m standing in the middle of a clearing, hands on my hips, calling out for Buttercup like a desperate fool. “Buttercup! Here, kitty, kitty!”
Behind me, Fox sighs audibly. “You know the damn cat isn’t going to come running like a dog, right?”
I whirl around, narrowing my eyes at him. He’s only wearing boxer briefs, his hard, muscled chest dusted with swirls of ink and dark hair. He’s even more distracting in the moonlight. “Do you have a better idea, caveman?”
“Yeah. Let’s stop yelling and think for a second.” He crouches down, scanning the underbrush like a predator stalking prey. Even annoyed, he moves with this effortless confidence that gets under my skin in all the wrong ways—and some of the right ones.
“She’s tiny, Fox! What if she got eaten by a coyote?” My voice breaks, and I hate how pathetic I sound.
His head snaps up, his sharp blue-green eyes locking on mine. “Not on my watch. We’ll find her.”
There’s something in his tone—gruff but reassuring—that settles the worst of my panic. Maybe it’s the way he says it, like it’s not just a promise but a challenge he fully intends to win.
He stands, brushing dirt from his jeans. “She’s probably holed up somewhere warm. Cats are smarter than they look.”
“She’s not just a cat,” I snap, clutching my arms to my chest as the cool evening air seeps through his flannel that clings to my form. “She’s family.”
“And here I thought I was your only roommate.” Fox walks closer, towering over me. His gaze softens, just a fraction, before his trademark smirk reappears. “Don’t worry, I’ll never lose your precious pussy.”
I glare at him, biting back a retort, fighting the smirk that plays on my lips.
We scour the woods for what feels like hours. I trip over a root, and Fox catches me with one strong hand on my arm. His grip is firm but gentle, and for a second, my heart beats faster than it should.
“You good?” His voice is low, almost tender.
“I’m okay,” I mutter, wrenching my arm free and marching ahead, determined to find Buttercup.
Behind me, he chuckles under his breath. “Stubborn as hell.”
My legs ache, and my throat is dry from calling Buttercup’s name. Just when I think I’m about to give up, Fox stops abruptly, holding out an arm to block my path.
“What now?” I snap.
He crouches, brushing some branches aside. “Blood.”
My stomach drops. “Oh no.”
“It’s mine, Princess,” he says dryly, lifting his hand to show a fresh cut on his palm. “Got it on some thorny brush.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” I grab his hand before he can protest. The cut isn’t deep, but it’s bleeding steadily.
“It’s nothing,” he grumbles, trying to pull away.
“Stop being a baby and let me see.” I dig into the pocket of his flannel for a tissue and press it to the wound, ignoring his scowl.
“You fuss over everyone like this, or just me?” His voice is laced with sarcasm, but his eyes linger on my face, studying me in a way that makes my pulse race.
“Just the people who help me chase after my runaway cat,” I shoot back, dabbing at the blood.
He chuckles, low and gravelly. “Lucky me.”
We don’t find Buttercup in the woods. By the time we trudge back to the garage, I’m exhausted, my feet aching from tromping over uneven terrain. Fox opens the door, flipping on the light, and I nearly collapse into the chair by the door.
“Go lay down,” he orders, nodding toward the loft. “I’ll grab you some water.”