Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
The way his spine snaps straight makes me pause, remembering I’m alone up here with the largest man I’ve ever encountered in real life. His gaze jumps to my wrist, and he grimaces as he takes a step forward. “No. I don’t like when you are hurt,” he says, like he’s stating the obvious. “I’ve seen enough of that to last a lifetime.”
"Good," I whisper, stepping back. Teasing. Something I never would have thought of in the past but now seems so natural. "I was starting to think you didn't like me."
“Show me your wrist. Let me check it.”
“It’s fine. I don’t want to talk about my wrist.”
“Don’t make me ask again, little girl.”
The way he says little girl makes things rattle loose in my belly. I try to hide the deep inhale I take as he leans closer, then hold out my wrist. He doesn’t touch it, just looks at it, tongue glancing his lower lip, teeth digging in.
“Any pain?”
I shake my head, wondering how breathing suddenly became so complicated. “I told you, I’m fine.”
His jaw locks as he chokes out a low grunt.
"Dinner's almost ready." He turns back to the oven, giving me lusty whiplash. "Want wine? My brothers’ wives left a bunch of pink stuff. Tastes like candy but with a kick."
"Yes," I breathe. "God, yes."
Two hours later, I'm three glasses deep in a very fruity pink wine and I'm ready to climb this mountain man like a coconut tree.
The food was incredible. Roasted chicken that fell off the bone, vegetables that tasted like something, sourdough bread still warm from the oven. But every time I lean in closer, every time I make an attempt to get my fingers anywhere near him, he pulls back like I’m tainted.
It's driving me nuts.
Liquid courage takes control of my mouth. "This is ridiculous," I snap. "What's your deal?"
He drags my half-empty wine glass out of my reach.
"You look at me like you want to devour me one minute, but the second I get within a foot of you, you act like I have the plague."
His jaw goes tight. "It’s complicated."
"Make it simple." I lean forward, elbows on the table, cupping my chin in my hands. "Do you want me or not?"
"Tina…" My fake name sounds so good coming from those lips.
"Because I want you. And I'm tired of pretending otherwise." I lean forward. "So either tell me why you won't touch me, or I'm going to touch you and see what happens."
He shoves back from the table so fast his chair topples over with a loud bang. "Not gonna happen."
I blow out a breath. The wine is pushing on my bladder. "You have a bathroom in here I assume so I don’t have to stumble around in the dark back to my private suite?"
"Upstairs. Turn left." He stacks our plates, and doesn’t meet my eyes as he heads to the sink.
I push to my feet on a little sway. "We're not done talking." I jab a finger in the air, my tongue feeling thick.
He grumbles something, but his eyes follow me as I head for the stairs.
I wobble to the top of the stairs, find the bathroom easily, but the door across the little hallway is cracked open. Light filters out in a vertical streak, and curiosity gets the better of me. Snooping around the guest cabin proved fruitless when it came to good intel on this sexy mountain man, but this room looks promising.
The sound of plates clinking and water running downstairs gives me the push I need.
The door opens silently, and I lean in, hand resting on the smooth brass knob, my eyes scanning. The desk is covered in small tools and pink and purple plastic parts. There's a legal pad with diagrams and notes in black ink.
I tiptoe closer. The room has a faint scent of Beau. There’s not much other than the desk and a tall bookshelf with what looks like vintage car manuals, the sight of which lights up my heart.
Another clink from downstairs. I know this crazy man will be bolting up the stairs to see if I drowned in the toilet if I take too long, so I lean over the desk and take it all in.
"What the hell?" I press my fingers to my lips, reading the black scratchy writing.
Rechargeable battery—8 hours. Multiple settings—start low. Taped to the pages are anatomy diagrams of female genitalia that look like they are from medical textbooks.
Then, there are the parts.
I pick up a disassembled vibrator, still in pieces, and stare at it like it might explain itself.
Jesus Christ. Beau Boone has been studying sex toys like they're carburetors.
Five
Beau
The same plate gets scrubbed for the third time while I try not to think about how Tessa's ass looked going up my stairs.
I shoved my hands into the scalding water meant to soak the dishes, to keep from unloading what feels like ten pounds of fucking sperm into my favorite boxers.