Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Something rustles behind the trees as I unbuckle my chaps to toss them in the back of my truck.
Nobody’s on the porch. Maybe I’m hearing things.
Nope.
This time, it’s a rhythmic creak.
Reaching for my gun, I take slow steps to the side of the house. In the full moonlight, Indie pads her bare feet along the dock just beyond the clearing. Her short sun dress dances in the light evening breeze like her hair flowing over her shoulders. Always angelic.
Holstering my gun, I make my way to the dock.
“You did that to Ty,” she says without turning. “You did that for me.”
I don’t respond.
“Why were you going to kill your dad?”
Sliding the hat from my head, my breath releases in a long exhale. With a tipped chin and heavy heart, I pull the words from the deepest recesses of my mind, stirring disturbing images and awakening the sick feeling in my stomach. “Annie was pregnant…” I swallow hard “…with his baby.”
Indie doesn’t move. Did she hear me?
“She was twelve.” I close my eyes for a few seconds. Going back still hurts.
“Did your mom know?” Indie murmurs.
“No.” Dropping my hat, I thread my fingers into my hair while gazing at the star-filled sky. “She was sick. Early dementia or something. Annie tried to tell her once, but she just laughed. Thought it was a joke. Who jokes about that?” I grunt. “That’s why Archer shot her too. He said she was going to die anyway. Why suffer anymore.”
A good minute or two passes while Indie remains silently idle. Then … she lifts her dress, shrugging it off to reveal her naked body, every beautiful inch of it. “I love you, Milo.”
Splash!
She circles her arms, swimming to the opposite side. I glance over my shoulder at the house. Every window facing the pond. Every shadow. Then I remove my clothes and dive in after her. At first, I don’t see her on the opposite shore. Then I catch the faint outline of her head bobbing in the water a good ten feet from the grassy shore.
It’s been four. Long. Years.
I swim to her.
“My Milo,” she whispers, arms around my neck; my hands guide her legs around my waist while my mouth covers hers. I’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to want a woman so completely.
To feel this level of passion.
To feel so fiercely protective.
I’d forgotten how that thing keeping time in my chest beats differently just from a woman's touch. This woman.
I lift our entwined bodies onto the soft grass.
“My Milo …” she whispers, threading her hands through my hair while I drag the inside of my lips just below her ear to her shoulder.
Her stomach tightens when I splay my hand across it, not touching her breasts or dipping between her legs. She shivers and squirms, hips slightly lifting from the ground to chase my touch.
I grin.
Her fingers tug my hair with a bit of frustration accompanied by a moan when I draw her nipple between my lips.
Tease it with my teeth.
Suck and squeeze it.
When she arches her back, I tug harder.
Again, I grin when her hand covers mine, trying to guide it between her legs. This will happen on my time.
Tracing the outline of her hips, down the outside of her leg, my fingertips ghost along her inner thigh a few inches lower than where she wants me.
If Fletcher finds out, I won’t be alive much longer, so I refuse to rush one damn moment with her.
On the other side of this moment, a realism I don’t want to accept awaits my return. My lips ghost along her skin to her other breast. Indie moves her legs the tiniest inch; her silky, warm thigh brushes the head of my erection, and I can’t help jerking my hips like she’s doing against my touch.
“Oh god …” Her breaths quicken.
My tongue circles her nipple before sucking it into my mouth again while my fingers continue to tease her inner thighs.
“M-Milo …” Her pelvis lurches off the ground serval times, breath catching for a second while her head falls back on a long moan.
And I pause, staring at her lips slowly parting while her eyelashes flutter with each heavy blink. With my hand at her thigh, her knees collapse together—a little shaky.
She opens her eyes.
“I love you, Indie girl.”
A ghost of sadness glides across her face, erasing a bit of her joy. And I’m unsure if it’s fear of what’s coming for us or if she feels conflicted about what we’re doing.
Keeping her gaze locked on mine, her hand slides between her legs. As much as I want to watch her touch herself, I can’t escape the captivity of her gaze. Covered with her arousal, her hand wraps around my cock. I pull a sharp breath through my nose when she strokes me, her thumb brushing over the swollen head.