Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Uncertainty. That was what was missing. His chin lifted a little higher. His shoulders sat farther back. The fingers on her waist were pliant and still. The afterglow of sex? She didn’t think so.
“What now?” She arched up and kissed his swollen bottom lip.
He moaned, smiled. “Now, you finish my tattoo.”
She did, naked and humming. Six hours later, her back ached, her hand was numb, but her heart was light and purring with eagerness.
She led him back to the bathroom and turned his back to the mirror. Chewing a nail, she calmed under his gaze. There were no more mountains between them. Exposed, vulnerable, and fearless with one another, they couldn’t have been any closer. “Okay. Take a look.”
“I leveled the house in Canada.” He pulled her hand from her mouth and traced the skin between her fingers. “Burned down the shed and rebuilt on the land. I want to live there again. I could hunt like my father. The cabin has a studio. I could write music there.” He entwined their fingers. “Live there with me. The landscapes and wildlife are some of the most picturesque countryside in the world. You could sketch the terrain from the back porch. Or I could hire a pilot to take you town where you could tattoo—”
“I would love to.” She raised their hands and kissed his knuckles. For the first time in nine years, she let herself imagine a future without Roy. Dreamy as it was, it gave her power. Jay deserved that future, and she would do anything to make sure he got it.
His gorgeous smile filled his face, and he held up the mirror. Long moments passed. His smile faltered, his gaze fixed on the reflection in his hand.
The black flames danced over his back, reaching for his shoulders and giving an illusion of melting skin in its path. The skin, a blend of real and drawn scars, shriveled away, exposing peeks of riveted steel beneath.
Pride buzzed through her bloodstream. If he didn’t tell her he loved it, she’d…she’d give him a stiff knee to the happy sacks.
He lowered the mirror and set it on the counter. Slowly, irritatingly, his gaze climbed to meet hers. Expression unreadable, he stared at her for a few breathless seconds.
She opened her mouth to demand a response, and his arms came around her, lips falling over hers. His tongue stroked, his kiss tender and giving. It spiraled through her and curled her toes.
Pulling her close, he caressed her with the slide of lips, the nuzzle of his nose. His cheek burned over her face as he trailed kisses over her jaw. Returning to her mouth, he fed her his appreciation, nourishing her, loving her.
Fuck words. Actions were louder. She melted in his arms and decided it was the safest place she could ever be.
79
Bands of natural light leaked through the privacy curtain of Jay’s bunk. A murmur of voices whispered in from the front lounge. He rubbed his eyes and pressed a kiss into the mass of red hair tangled over his pillow. He thought his lips met Charlee’s cheekbone. Maybe her jaw. Hard to tell under that thick, gorgeous mane.
Careful not to wake her, he tugged on a pair of shorts and crawled out. Joints creaking, he tumbled into the aisle. The skin was tight around his two-day old tat. He loved that feeling, a reminder of her gift and the permanence of its hold.
He hadn’t paid her for her work, but he didn’t need to. What she didn’t know was he’d made her co-owner on all his accounts, and she was now the sole beneficiary in his will. His parents’ mistake wouldn’t be repeated, and Charlee would never be without money again.
He took a piss, brushed his teeth, and strode through the lounge, giving Tony and Nathan a chin lift. When Ella looked up from her laptop and smiled, he reluctantly smiled back.
“Mornin’, Jay! Don’t you forget to check that schedule now,” she called after him as he jumped down the stairs to the exit.
She greeted him every day with the same prompting. He refused to remind her a third time that one of the few things he liked about touring was stumbling off the bus when he woke, comatose and foggy, not knowing where they were or what time it was. Unawareness had a calming effect.
His bare feet hit the rocky ground, and he stretched his arms to the mist-laden sky. Four waiting guards flanked him as he crossed the lot to the guardrail. High above the terrain, the rolling landscape extended for miles in every direction.
Lush green hills emerged from wisps of ground-hovering clouds. The humid air plastered to his skin, the aroma mossy and alive. The single building of bathrooms and rows of parking spaces stood out in the otherwise undeveloped scenic overlook. That and the parade of buses and Suburbans.