Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I was fully pinned.
Checkmate.
As if I wasn’t already in that position since the start.
He loomed above me, my view filled with his silhouette, and I got my first good look at his face.
A dark swoop of thick hair, framed in a halo of moonlight. His cowboy hat must have been what fell to the side of my porch, because it was gone now. Hard contours of muscle came out from the rolled-up sleeves of his black collared shirt.
I registered the details of his body as if I might need them again one day for a police lineup.
He was tall.
Ungodly strong.
Built to fight.
He brought his arm up and I noticed a few long, thin scrapes he’d gotten along his forearm. From my fingernails?
His tongue came out as he licked the area. I could see a flash of metal in the low light, only for a quick moment.
He had a tongue piercing.
Just another thing to memorize for when they lock him up.
After watching me for a moment he moved lower, getting down close to my face.
He stayed there, inches above it, hovering, and I saw the most arresting feature he had: his eyes were emerald green and bright, rimmed with dark around the edges.
“Are you going to calm down now?” he said, his voice more like a command.
My heartbeat thumped beneath his grip on each of my wrists.
He was stunning. In his build and his face. One of those psychotic people who happens to look like a movie star, though he’d made it plain to see how ugly he was inside.
I snapped back to reality, white-hot anger and disgust flaring in me all over again.
“Fuck off,” I growled, the words coming out strange.
I spit right in his face.
He flinched. For the first time, something had caught him by surprise.
His pupils flared. Rage, at first, followed by a half-lidded gaze.
“Didn't expect that out of you,” he said. “I like that.”
Something thrummed inside me.
I’m not fucking backing down.
“Who are you?” I repeated, the fear momentarily gone from my voice, replaced with raw adrenaline and spite.
He dipped lower to one side, his breath on my skin.
My thoughts were drifting again. His fucking breath. Why does it smell so good, and sweet? Tangerine?
“I’m Draven,” he said in a low rumble. “Your sister’s boyfriend. Is this how you welcome houseguests to Tennessee, Max?”
He let go of my wrists a second later, lifting off of me.
The moment I was freed, I bolted into action, putting as much distance between us as possible. I scooted back on my ass on the porch, reaching for my hockey stick and pressing my back up against the wall.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, eyeing the hockey stick.
I jumped a little as I saw a white fluff in quick motion. Misty the cat, finally whizzing past the porch and running behind a bush.
Draven grinned.
My nerves were still shot through with adrenaline. I couldn’t even process it. How could he be smiling, acting so calm and casual?
“What is wrong with you?” I asked the man. Draven.
This is Lily’s fucking boyfriend?
He brushed off his pants as he rose to his feet. “You came at me with a stick.”
“You fucking choked me.”
“Well, that part was just for fun. You have a very chokable neck. And you smelled like good whiskey, which is not easy for me to resist.”
My stomach felt like an anvil. Sadistic fucking bastard. My eyes had fully adjusted now, and I could see that he was wearing a tight white shirt under his black work shirt. He cocked his head to one side, looking me over, like we’d just high-fived instead of ending up on the goddamn ground.
“I thought you were a stalker,” I said.
He furrowed his brow, his expression suddenly serious. “You have people stalking you? Who?”
“People less fucked up than you, apparently.”
His jaw was chiseled. Like he’d just stepped out of a Western movie where he was undoubtedly the one on a Most Wanted poster.
“If a guy like you has a stalker, then I’m the least of your problems,” he said.
“You’re out of your mind,” I told him. I wished the slight waver in my voice wasn’t so obvious. “Could have killed me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“If I wanted to hurt you, you’d be unconscious by now,” he said, his gemstone eyes casting a glance toward me like a threat. “And if I wanted to kill you…”
He didn’t finish that sentence.
“You think knocking me onto my porch isn’t hurting me?”
“There’s not a scratch on you,” he said, idly rubbing his fingers over the spot where I’d bitten him. “Go ahead. Check. I’ll wait.”
He reached down and offered me an outstretched hand. As if the motherfucker wanted to help me now.
I slapped it away.
“Why were you breaking into my barn?”
He reached down onto the ground and grabbed something. Keys jingled in the air, glinting under the moonlight. I instantly recognized them as my mother’s spare set, complete with a little leather rooster on the keychain.