Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
7
LARK
Iwoke up disoriented, not knowing where I was. The sheets beneath me were dark and the mattress far bigger than the lumpy one in my apartment.
Then memory flooded back—Jaxton’s mouth on mine, the rough claim of his hands, and the way he’d taken me like we were meant to be together. My body ached in places that still throbbed with memory. Heat rushed to my cheeks even though no one could see me.
I should’ve panicked. Bolted upright and planned my exit strategy. That was my reflex now—never let my guard down. Instead, I lay still and listened to the rhythm of my own breathing, surprised by how calm it sounded.
I felt safe here.
The thought slipped into my head before I could stop it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like this, long before my life spiraled out of control and I found myself far from home.
In each place the marshals hid me, I always looked over my shoulder. Never slept through a single night since they put me in WITSEC. Until I drifted away with his arms around me.
But now that the passion had passed, I had to wonder why I felt so comfortable with Jaxton when I didn’t know much about him. Only that he’d seen too much of me already, kissed like he meant to brand me, and had a dangerous air that nobody could miss.
I didn’t know what made him laugh, or if he ever did. How he liked his coffee, black or sweet, what he dreamed about, or his first thought when he woke in the morning.
But I wanted to.
The realization made my chest tighten. Wanting anyone was reckless in my situation. Especially someone like Jaxton Bishop.
I shifted under the covers, drawing my knees up slightly and tucking the sheet higher across my chest, as though the extra layer could shield me from how deeply he’d already gotten under my skin.
The door creaked open, and I startled upright, clutching the sheet tighter to my chest. Relief hit when I saw Jaxton. Hatless now, blond hair mussed, gray eyes unreadable as ever.
He didn’t say a word as he crossed the room, a tray balanced in his hands. The smell of coffee hit me first, followed by the faint buttery scent of toast. He set it on the bedside table, his lips curving as his gaze raked over me.
“Good morning,” I murmured, my voice still rough with sleep.
He leaned down without hesitation, claiming my mouth like it was routine. There was nothing tentative about his kiss—just his mouth on mine, like he owned it. And after last night, maybe he did.
When he pulled back, I blinked up at him. “I didn’t exactly peg you as the breakfast-in-bed type.”
He shrugged. “Needed to eat. Figured you did too.”
I shook my head with a laugh. “That’s…practical.”
He sat down next to me and twisted around to grab the tray and set it across my lap. I tried not to stare at the smooth way he moved and the muscles in his biceps bunching.
Glancing down, I took in the coffee, toast, and a pile of scrambled eggs on mismatched plates, laughing again. “You must’ve read my mind.”
“Woke up hungry?” he asked, resting his back against the headboard and stretching his long legs out on the mattress.
I took a sip from the mug, then mumbled, “Wondering how you take your coffee.”
“Black with one sugar.” He tilted his head at the coffee in my hand. “Hopefully you like it the same ’cause I figured we could share that one.”
My lips curved into a smile over the rim of the cup. “Works for me.”
“Good.” He stabbed the fork into the eggs and lifted a bite to my lips. “Now eat. You gotta be starving.”
This was more care than anyone had shown me in years, so I didn’t argue. We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before I found the nerve to ask, “Do you always look after people like this?”
He looked at me for a long moment before shaking his head. “Only you.”
Heat bloomed under my skin again, and I ducked my gaze to the plate, giving me something safe to focus on. “What about your family?”
His fork scraped against the plate, and when he answered, his tone had softened in a way I hadn’t heard before. “Tried to watch out for my sister, Alanna, growing up. She’s eight years younger.”
“Do you see her often?”
“Not as much as I’d like. Our parents didn’t approve of me patching into the Kings. They do their best to keep me away from her.” He shook his head with a sigh. “But we still find a way when we can.”
I swallowed hard at the love in his voice. “She’s lucky to have you.”
His eyes flicked to mine, and the weight of his gaze pinned me again. “No. I’m the lucky one. She’s great.”