Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
It was alive inside of me. Writhing. Needing an outlet.
Fuck this guy. Goddamn. This guy.
I was snarling because in that moment, I hated him. How fucking dare he involve me in his shit?
Images flashed in my mind.
How he got in my face on the subway train.
How surprised he was at seeing me in the police station.
How he stared at me, coming to stand in front of me as if he wanted to say something to me.
How his cousin threw her arms around me, demanding I come with them, but it was his look that was coming to my memory now.
How he looked pleased at the thought.
Pleased.
Fucking pleased!
A pent-up growl began low in my stomach, and as it rose up, moving through my throat, traveling to my mouth, it was savage and boiling, and when I let it loose, I was seeing things in a whole new light.
He did this. He wanted me to come with them.
This was his fault.
His.
How dare he?
I was done. Officially done. I’d reached my limit of taking this bullshit.
A dark warning was in his eyes as his hand closed around my hip. “Don’t—”
“You don’t!”
His eyes went feral, and I reacted, matching it. I was all about that. The inferno inside of me was lit up and needing an outlet. He just volunteered as tribute.
He went feral. I went primal.
I lunged at him, and since we were so close, my body hit against his, but instead of both of us going backward, he caught me. His arms wrapped around my body, and I was held imprisoned in the air. Somehow that made it worse, and I screamed, struggling to get free while I hit his shoulder.
“Goddammit,” he growled, readjusting his hold.
We were moving.
I kept trying to kick free from him, but then we were falling.
My back hit the bed, and he landed on top of me, but he must’ve caught his weight somehow. He didn’t crush me. I was stunned for a second, and he used that time to lay his entire weight down on top of me.
“Stop.” He pinned me down, moving my wrists so they were beside my head.
I couldn’t. I, just, couldn’t.
I began fighting again. “I hate you. I fucking hate you.”
He growled again, a vicious sound ripping from him, as he moved my arms higher. When I tried bucking him off me, he twisted, scissoring my legs open in one smooth move, and he maneuvered himself between them, kicking them out so I couldn’t move them except—I wrapped them around his waist, and oooh.
We both paused.
Anger was still boiling in me and I couldn’t hit out at him. That made it worse. “Fuck you.” My voice broke. My chest was heaving.
He lifted his head higher so he could see me better.
We stared at each other.
He was breathing hard as well.
I didn’t think it was from the exertion of fighting me.
Shit.
My fight was changing swiftly, lighting up my arousal.
His eyes darkened, seeing the change.
I was still breathing hard, my chest rising up and down rapidly.
But then he ground against me, purposefully, and held my gaze the whole time.
That felt good.
Dammit.
His head fell to the side, his eyes closing. He did it again, pressing harder into me, holding it there.
We both groaned.
That felt so good. I gasped lightly. The throbbing between my legs was spreading through my body. Racing all the way up, sending sensations through me until my mouth was watering again.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
I hadn’t thought that through when I got up from the couch.
I ground up against him.
“Sawyer. Wai—” he rasped into my ear, his entire body pressing me down.
I didn’t. I lifted my hips up against him again, rotating. I panted. The inferno in me transformed so fast into lust now. Need.
I was aching from a whole different outlet.
I licked my lips because a deep yearning took root inside of me, starting to pulsate at the base of my spine.
I needed this touch. I needed to feel good, for once.
All the pain from the last couple weeks, I wanted it gone. The fear of being shot at. I came to this city despondent. Lost. My spirit had been fractured, but this, here with him—he could make me feel good. He could make me forget. And suddenly, that’s the only thing I was desperate for.
I needed to forget.
Turning my head, I fused my mouth to his. That taste electrified me, and I groaned, trying to pull my hands free.
I was beyond caring about anything else except the feel of him on top of me.
I gasped into his mouth, “Jake.”
“Sawyer.” Jake lifted his head, tearing his mouth from me as he gazed down at me, his eyes very alert, very focused. “Wha—” He let go of one of my wrists, running his hand down my arm.
My hand shot to his jaw, and I held him.