Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
"Of course I'm keeping my promise. That’s my duty to her father. Now, don’t be more of a dick, what do you want?”
I glance over as Beau rambles on about Sunday and celebrating mom’s birthday, but I catch the way her face pales at my words, the way her body pulls away from my touch like she's been burned. Fuck.
That’s my duty to her father.
Wrong thing to say. Wrong fucking way to say it.
I cut Beau off, palming the wheel along the winding mountain road. Her eyes are fixed on the scenery outside, body turned away from me now. I can read her body, not just when I’ve got my dick inside her or my mouth at the altar of her pussy.
Pine trees blur past, shadows dappling the road as afternoon sun filters through the branches. The tension between us is a living thing, breathing in the small space of the cab.
A bright flash of red cuts across the windshield—a cardinal darting across the road. I swerve instinctively, the truck lurching, gravel crunching beneath the tires as I correct. Delaney gasps, her hand flying to the door handle.
"Shit," I mutter, steadying the wheel. "Bird."
She nods but doesn't speak. A single tear tracks down her cheek—one she tries to brush away before I can see it.
"Talk to me," I bark, harsher than intended and not angry at her but at my own asshole self. "What's going on in that head?"
“Nothing.” She presses this barely-there smile on her lips, staring out the passenger window at the endless green and brown going by.
Enough of this bullshit.
I pull the truck off onto one of the many little trail roads that wind up the mountain. In a skid of gravel, I stop, killing the engine. The silence that follows is absolute—no cars, no people, just mountain sounds and her shallow breathing.
"Rule number three," I remind her, shifting to face her. "You tell me what's in your head. Always. No exceptions. Especially when I ask."
She laughs, the sound hollow and tense. "Even when it makes me sound pathetic?"
"Especially then." I reach for her, but she flinches away. The rejection hits like a physical blow. "Delaney. Look at me. I’m not fucking around. I can’t take care of you if I don’t know what’s going on, and listen, I’m a fucking man, I’m an idiot, okay? But I’m your idiot and I want to know everything, so don’t make me turn that ass red just to get you to talk. I’m your home, your safest place. Daddy. Say it however you want to say it."
She turns slowly, those eyes that haunt my dreams now rimmed with red.
“You’re guilty you weren’t there for my father. At the end. You told me you were sorry you weren’t there.”
“I am sorry about that. I’ll live with that. That has nothing, not one fucking thing to do with you being here with me. The way I want you. The things we do.”
She shrugs. Tough little brat but I’m tougher.
"You think I'm here out of guilt?" I ask, the question clearly expecting an answer so we can figure this out and move the fuck on.
She nods, fingers twisting in the hem of her new dress. "It makes sense. Why else would someone like you want someone like me? A favor to an old friend. A debt you're repaying."
"Someone like me?" The question comes out sharper than I intended.
"Mountain man. Ex-military. Built like a—" She gestures vaguely at my body, her eyes dropping to where my cock is already thickening against my zipper. "You could have anyone. Why would you want some broke teenager with daddy issues unless you promised him you'd look after me?" Her voice hardens, a brittle edge of defiance cutting through the hurt. "With a little kink thrown in for fun, I guess. Makes babysitting the obligation more interesting."
A growl rises in my throat, primal and possessive. My fingers wrap around her wrist, engulfing it completely, tugging until her palm rests against my chest. My heart hammers beneath her touch, a battering ram against my ribs.
"Feel that?" I say, holding her hand in place. "That's not guilt. That's not obligation. That's what you do to me, every fucking second since I pulled you from that river. Since I saw those nipples hard beneath your wet shirt and knew I'd die if I didn't taste them."
She blinks, confusion and hope warring in her expression.
"Let me make something real clear, Delaney Hart. I don't want you because of your dad. I want you because you're mine. Because you were always meant to be mine. I’ve run my life on instinct, it’s one of the only things I trust, and my instinct is spot on when it comes to you. To us. I’m not so sure about God and all that, but you were created for me. I’ve been sitting up on this mountain like an asshole for years, waiting but not knowing I was waiting, until there you fucking were, hanging like you were dropped down from heaven on a rope swing over my river. That’s a fucking sign right there, and it punched me right in the balls. I don’t ignore my instincts, that shit will get you killed."