Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
The door swung open into pitch black. Before I could take a step, hands closed over my arms and yanked me inside.
I stumbled, coming up hard against a body. Tall, broad, male. That was all I registered before I was turned, swung around, and shoved. My back hit the wall, alarm spiking down my spine, and I let out a shriek, too scared to be embarrassed by the sound.
The figure holding me went still. “Paige.” I heard my name growled.
“Let go of me,” I spat out. I knew that voice. Ford.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his fingers tight around my upper arms—not hurting, but not letting go.
I yanked back, my head bumping off the wall behind me. I wanted to pull away, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. “Let go.”
“I’m sorry, Paige. I didn’t realize it was you.” His voice was a low, rumbly growl. I was suddenly glad I couldn’t see his face.
“Yeah, I got that,” I said, my heart thundering in my chest, my mouth suddenly dry.
I was in this dark, tiny closet with Ford Sawyer, his hands on me, and I was frozen—not from the cold this time, but with indecision. My brain was screaming. Run, run, run. Throw up my knee, nail him in the balls, and get away. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d dissuaded someone who wouldn’t let go of me.
But I didn’t do it. I stood there, silent, his hands on my arms like iron bands. When he moved in, closing the distance between us, I let out a slow, shuddering breath. I should run, but my legs wouldn’t obey. My brain was telling me to get away from Ford Sawyer, but the rest of me was happy exactly where I was. Pressed to his long, lean body, the woodsy, male scent of him teasing me. I didn’t want to want him, but I did.
“Paige,” was all he said. Half a question, half a statement.
I didn’t know what to say.
His hands loosened a fraction, and my brain shouted: This is it. Run! I stayed where I was. When his fingers renewed their grip, I didn’t pull away. I let him draw me closer, my skin heating up, my heartbeat quickening in anticipation, not fear.
“Paige,” he said again.
And this time I said, “Ford?” But that was all I got out.
The heat of his breath grazed my cheek. His lips followed, sipping at my skin, finding my mouth in the dark. That first kiss—so soft, gentle, nothing I would have expected from a man who carried darkness like Ford Sawyer.
One hand dropped from my arm and came up, fingers sliding into my loose hair, his palm cupping my chin. “Paige,” he breathed and tilted his head to deepen the kiss.
The second kiss wasn’t gentle. There was demand, and I gave, letting my head tip back, my lips part, my tongue stroke against his. So much passion. Heat. His mouth was hard and hot on mine. His other hand dropped from my chin, winding around my waist, pulling me tight to his body. He kissed me as if I’d disappear from his arms if he stopped.
My brain stopped shouting for me to run as my arms slid up, pulling him closer. I’d lost the ability to reason. I could only feel his mouth, setting me on fire.
I wanted more.
It had been a long time since I’d been kissed—life too complicated to make room for this kind of indulgence—but I knew my long drought had nothing to do with how I was responding to this kiss. In a house filled with good-looking men, why this one? The one I should most want nothing to do with.
I didn’t know. But my arms wound around him, my breath coming in gasps as he kissed me as if madness had taken over us both. I knew only wanting—couldn’t, shouldn’t, but did.
The lights flared on, the single incandescent bulb above us swaying lightly, illuminating the room in a flickering golden glow. With that, my brain took over again, and I stumbled, reaching up to swipe the back of my hand over my damp mouth. My eyes stretched impossibly wide as I stared up at Ford. His cheekbones were sharp, his sea-green eyes burning in the sudden light.
“I… I…” I couldn’t form a coherent thought.
Snapping my mouth shut, I ducked under his raised arm, disappearing into the hall and my room. I slammed the door and turned the lock behind me before diving under the covers, my heart still pounding, head spinning, trying to make sense of what I’d just done.
Ford Sawyer might be a killer, but he was a hell of a kisser. I could still feel his hands on me like a brand, still taste him on my tongue. And while I should be glad I’d escaped him, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d get the chance to kiss him again.