Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“Remember, it’s good to share your toys with your friends.”
He gives me a look. “No. It’s my tank. They can get their own.”
I just smile.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier,” says Dean. “We need a dog like Honey.”
“That’s a great idea. Soph would love one.”
“No. I mean for security. The house you’ve chosen—”
“The house we’ve chosen.”
“Whatever. It isn’t very defensible. There’s no perimeter. We’re not hidden during the day, and even at night there’s light and noise that betray where we are. We’re too exposed.”
“And a dog would help defend us?” I ask. “Are they really that dangerous if people have guns?”
“As a fast-moving threat, yes. But literally any dog that can bark is a help,” he says. “They hear everything. They can smell strangers, even after they’ve slipped away. Some dogs can even track if they catch a scent. Dogs make us a hard target.”
I think it over. “There must have been some dogs in town originally. They either died from lack of water if they were locked inside or wandered away if their food ran out. But they might not have wandered too far.”
“We should start looking. Leave some food out on the edges of town and see if any show up.”
“That’s a good idea. Come here,” I say, patting the empty mattress beside me.
He pauses, and his mouth opens and closes. Like he’s not sure what to say. Then he wisely shuts his mouth and lies down beside me. I don’t think I have ever seen him look so ill at ease. The man absolutely believes I am setting him up for annihilation. That he will say or do the wrong thing and be banished from my sight.
“Look.” I point to the white-painted ceiling high above our heads. “Do you see?”
It takes him a moment, but then he understands. “Somebody drew stars up there with a pencil.”
“Yeah, and a crescent moon.”
“Huh.” And a small smile curves his mouth. From this distance the bruises beneath his eyes are obvious. He’s had another long day in a series of them lately.
“Close your eyes. Go to sleep. You look tired.”
He snorts. “Astrid.”
“What?”
“I am not getting any sleep lying on a bed with you the way things are between us.” He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed.
My limb isn’t exactly working of its own volition. However, I don’t remember making the decision to grab hold of the back of his shirt to stop him.
He gives me this look over his shoulder like he doesn’t know what’s going on, and honestly, me too. The words that come out of my mouth, though, make perfect sense.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
He pauses, and his expression is so controlled. I hate how he’s holding back and hiding whatever he’s feeling. How fucking dare he do that when I clearly can’t. “What do you want, then?” he asks.
“I already told you. I don’t want you to leave.”
“And what does that involve for you? What does it look like…me staying in this bed with you?”
“Oh, fuck you,” I say with wonder, pushing myself up into a sitting position. “You want to do a lecture series on consent now?”
He shrugs. “Better late than never.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Apparently I don’t have to,” he says, with no small amount of delight, because he is such an asshole. And he’s all mine.
With a hand wrapped around his thick neck for leverage, I am now where I want to be. Where I want him to be. Which is with me straddling his lap and our mouths smashed together. Because there’s nothing nice or gentle about this. It was highly unlikely there ever would be. From day one, we’ve been messed up in a variety of ways. In a normal world, he’d be in jail and I’d be in therapy. But here we are. He’s made me furious and feverish and a thousand other things besides.
His hands are in my hair and his tongue is in my mouth. I can never get close enough to him. The need to feel his stubble scraping my skin. To taste toothpaste and him…whatever the hell that is. I don’t know, but I need it now. And he’s obviously thinking the same thing, since my tank top is gone and soon his tee is too.
Shit. “Dean,” I say. “The door.”
“Right. Legs around me.” With a hand beneath my ass, he stands and takes the necessary few steps to close the bedroom door. “Done.”
“We have to remember to be quiet.”
He raises a brow at me. “You think you can be quiet?”
“That wasn’t a challenge.”
“Sort of sounded like one,” he says, throwing me on the bed. My back bounces against the mattress. He has my boxer shorts off me and is climbing between my spread legs with a feral smile I do not trust in the least. Not one iota. “Here, use this cushion.”