Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
She didn’t try to help him to the table, just watched him make his molasses-speed progress. Sweat dotted his forehead and some slid down his back as he lowered himself to the chair. Limbs trembling, he paused reaching for his fork and took several slow breaths. Through it all Jasmine sat there, nursing her ice water. She never once looked impatient or put out by having to wait for him.
He ate slowly, partly because he didn’t have the energy to do it any way other than slowly, but also because he was fucking savoring the food. It was delicious.
After cutting a piece of the tender meatloaf, he added a bit of mashed potatoes to the fork with it then held it out to her. Jasmine held his gaze for a moment before she leaned forward and opened her mouth to allow him to slide it between her lips.
“Christ you make eating hot.” He focused on her mouth as she chewed and swallowed while sitting in her chair once more.
“And you’re still too weak to handle me so focus and eat.”
“Where are we?” He took a few moments to cut up the rest of the food and waited for an answer.
“Safe house.”
“I don’t recognize it.”
“Good. You shouldn’t. It’s one of mine.”
He speared a piece of broccoli and pointed the fork at her. With her minute head shake, he ate it and mulled over her words. “One of?”
“Yep.”
That was it. Nothing more, no additional information, and he frowned.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Nope.”
“Christ, Jasmine. Why not?”
“Nothing more to say. It’s a safe house. It’s one of mine. End of story.”
This woman. “If I had the energy I’d tan that ass of yours for the flippant remarks.”
A low chuckle burst from her. “If you had the energy we wouldn’t be talking, we’d be fucking, so not exactly concerned there.”
He glared as he took another healthy bite of the meatloaf. His focus fell away after he noticed the flare of heat in her gaze as she stared at his mouth. Swallowing, he dragged his tongue along his lower lip, pleased as could be her attraction wasn’t fading. Even if she was right, were he feeling better than like shit on the bottom of a shoe, they would be fucking.
Or cuddling.
Talk ceased as he finished cleaning his plate. While it felt incredible to fill his belly, even he couldn’t ignore the trembling his body did as he settled the fork down on the empty plate. Hating the weakness owning his limbs, he took his time reaching for his water. Even now, Jasmine didn’t say a thing, merely observed.
The cold water slid down his throat and he fought off a yawn, stomach full, body exhausted and needing far more sleep to allow recovery.
As if she knew exactly what he thought, her lips curved up in a slight smile. She didn’t speak, merely tipped her head back to the bedroom, and he didn’t have the energy to argue with her. He stood and she mimicked him, swiping up his plate and utensils. Lance didn’t move and when she turned around from setting things on the counter, he held out a hand.
A slight head shake before she took his hand and grabbed their water glasses with the other. Side by side they retreated down the hall and went to bed.
* * * *
For the second time that day he woke alone. A fresh glass of water with ice cubes rested at the edge of the bedside table. Struggling to a seated position, he rested against the headboard and took a slow drink. Whereas before the sun had illuminated the room, now streetlights held that distinction.
Low voices filtered back to him and he instinctively reached for the sidearm beneath his pillow, grateful it was one, there, and two, not so much work to hold it. One more drink of water and he swung his legs over the side of the bed and headed up the hallway.
He recognized Jasmine’s voice, but the other seemed younger. Male, but he couldn’t identify it. At the end of the hall, he peered around the corner and snarled with possessiveness. A tall Black man stood close to Jasmine, too fucking close, while on a stool across from them was a young man who looked like he could be a perfect blend of the two.
“Auntie, there’s a man lurking at the corner. Mostly naked with a scowl on his face.”
“That’s Lance and he’s grouchy when he first wakes up. Usually because he’s hungry.”
The young man looked pointedly at him and Lance drew on years of being expressionless to keep the shock from seeing his face show. He was missing his right eye and had a terrible scar down the side of his face. Part of his jaw was also missing.
He stepped into view, nodding at the young man, flicking his gaze dismissively over the man still too close to Jasmine, and walked to her side, where he drew her nearer to him before settling her on the other side. Keeping himself between her and the man.