Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
I’m lucky. I’m not rich, but I’m not poor. I’ve made mistakes, but I’m working on building a life that feels authentic and safe. For me and my son.
I cover my face with a hard exhale, then peek through my fingers. The phone is taunting me from the passenger seat.
I reach over. My finger hovers. Then taps.
It barely gets in half a ring before he answers.
“Emery. It’s been twenty-four minutes.”
Not ‘hello’ or ‘what?’. My name and how long I’ve been driving.
He’s a ten but…a bit of a psycho.
“I made it down safe,” I force a weird cheerfulness into my voice as I roll my eyes at the gray fabric ceiling of the minivan.
“Good.” A beat. “How’s the knee feel?”
I glance at the dried blood on my scrubs. “Fine.”
“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “Take some Tylenol and ice it for thirty minutes before bed.”
“I know how to treat a scrape.”
“I know you do. Do it anyway.”
Silence stretches between us. Long enough for my pulse to start skipping again.
Then he speaks.
“See you tomorrow. Before dark.”
“I heard you the first time.”
“Good. Sweet dreams, baby girl.”
He clicks off I’m left sitting in the quiet of my very practical minivan with my pulse in my throat and the terrifying realization that I’m already looking forward to seeing him again.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds.
But I know one thing for sure.
I’m wearing different shoes.
Two
Colt
Iknew her the second I opened the door yesterday and saw her on the path.
Emery fucking Langston.
Four years older and softer in all the places that made a man ache. I hauled her out of a burning house once. Didn’t think I’d ever see her again—not in front of me, not close enough to touch, not looking at me like I was just some wounded mountain hermit she had to patch up.
But there she was.
She didn’t recognize me. She wouldn’t. She’d been barely conscious back then, and I was in full gear, smoke thick enough to choke a god. But I never forgot the weight of her in my arms. Never forgot what it felt like to carry her out of hell.
Last night, after she’d gone, I tried to sleep. Yeah, fuck that. Not a chance I’m going to sleep again unless she’s right there beside me. Not after getting a glimpse of her panties outlining what I know is going to be the world’s most addictive fucking pussy.
I tried a cold shower like I was fifteen with a rebellious hard-on. Didn’t work. My dick was still half frozen when I started to beat off. Three times in quick succession until my balls ached and my dick was raw, but warm again, and I still wasn’t satisfied. I don’t know if I’ll ever be satisfied again.
Four years ago, I told myself to move on. The feelings were different then. I just wanted to protect the girl I’d dragged to safety, not fuck her a dozen ways ‘til Sunday. It took weeks, but somehow I tucked all thoughts of her in the back of my mind.
Now, all bets are off. I’ve spent the day staring at the fire. Should have shown up at work, should have grabbed my chainsaw and carved some wood to take my mind off things. But the only thing I’d want to carve right now is my name in her ass so she’ll never forget who I am
My brother Cade showed up late afternoon with some shit about people been trying to get hold of the sheriff and nobody had heard from me.
Fuck that. My world just turned upside down, the job can wait a day.
Now she’s here, and all I want to do is throw her over my shoulder and keep her.
She walks into my place like she owns the fucking mountain. Like she doesn’t know she just woke something in me I can’t put back to sleep. Like she doesn’t know I’m already calculating how to keep her here. Mine. Whether she wants it or not.
"How’s the knee?" I ask, tracking the slight wince when she steps wrong.
"Fine. Just a scrape."
"You clean it?"
"Yes."
"Bandaged it?"
"Obviously."
She’s snippy. Fiery. Fuck, I like her.
Her fingers tremble as she snaps on the blue gloves. I feel them shaking a little as she inspects my ass wound, just enough to make my cock twitch.
She clears her throat, hesitating for a beat. "You have kids?"
I let out a short laugh, dark and low. "Hell no. Ain’t cut out for half-hearted shit like that."
She blinks, maybe surprised by the sharpness in my tone.
Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t say whatever she’s thinking. I step closer, just enough to make her tilt her head back to keep looking at me. "Go on, baby. Say it. I can take it."
For a split second I think she’s going to answer me, tell me something honest. Then she draws a sharp breath.