Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
I’d be doing that for a woman I’ve barely known two weeks. It sounds insane, yet it’s the damned truth. It’s also why I find myself standing on Olivia’s porch at nine in the night, heart pounding like I’m a fucking kid. The porch light’s soft, the house quiet. I hit the doorbell and listen to it echo inside.
Nothing.
I wait, then ring again.
Still nothing.
I’m about to turn and leave when the lock clicks and the door cracks open. Olivia’s gaze meets mine and I drink her in. She’s barefoot, wearing leggings, and one of those soft shirts that hangs off her shoulder. Her hair’s loose, eyes shadowed but steady.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
I scrub a hand through my hair, trying to find words that don’t sound stupid. “Hello to you too, Livy.”
She sighs, glancing toward the hallway. “Come in. I don’t want to wake Dad.” I step inside. She closes the door behind me, locking it—probably out of habit rather than wanting me to stay. I can tell that from the way she folds her arms against her chest and stares at me.
“You want something to drink?”
“No, I’m fine.” She nods but doesn’t move. Just stands there looking at me like she’s trying to decide if I’m real. “I went without you,” I say finally.
“Blade,” she sighs.
“I only went to talk to Bear and Hangman. One of the girls there came up to me, wanted to ‘party.’ I turned her down, finished my business, and left, Olivia. I came straight here.”
She frowns. “Blade, I don’t need a play-by-play of what you do. I wouldn’t even ask that if we were a couple.”
“If we are a couple?” I echo. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean, Livy?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” she responds quietly. I take a large step closer, the distance between us shrinking quickly. “We’ve been eating dinner together almost every night. We talk every day. You sleep in my fucking arms. What the fuck are we if we’re not a couple?”
Olivia blinks, her voice quieter as she murmurs, “After yesterday and today, I figured we were nothing.”
A growl escapes me before I can stop it. I close the last of the space between us. “Fuck that. You’re mine, Olivia. I’m not giving you up. We can figure the rest of this bullshit out, but I’m not letting you go.”
“Blade—” she starts, but I cut her off the only way I know how.
I kiss her.
It’s rough, desperate, and full of everything I’ve been holding back. She gasps against my mouth, then melts into me. Her hands clutch my shirt as mine slide into her hair. The taste of her, the sound of her breath—it all hits like fire through dry grass. The world narrows to this one impossible, perfect, maddening moment. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen, her eyes wide and dark. She’s fucking gorgeous.
“Now,” I rasp, “tell me, Livy. What the fuck are we?”
She swallows. “I’m … not sure.”
“Then I guess I need to show you.”
Before she can protest, I scoop her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back. She gasps, hands flying to my shoulders.
“Blade, what are you doing?”
“Showing you exactly what we are to each other,” I growl, still pissed over her words. I carry her down the short hall to her bedroom. The door’s cracked and I kick it open. I all but toss her on the bed, letting her fall through the air. Her body hits the mattress with enough force that her body bounces upon contact. She’s clearly startled. I’d enjoy that if she didn’t have me so unbelievably mad. When she starts to get up, I shake my head no. Her body completely freezes. “Don’t you fucking move,” I clip out—each word a struggle to say.
To her credit, she stops moving. I turn to close the bedroom door. Closing it quickly, I turn and cross my arms against my chest, lean against it and just stare at her. I know I need to get control of my anger before I go back to her.
“You’re going to wake Dad,” she whispers.
That spurs me on. She just doesn’t get it, but by God, she will before the night is done. I tug my shirt over my head, toss it aside. “Then you’ll have to be quiet, Usdi.”
Her eyes go wide, her breath catches, and for a heartbeat everything is suspended—me, her, and the space between us. It’s a space that is small, but huge because it represents what we want and what we’re afraid to reach for.
I kick off my shoes, leaning down to take off my socks—never letting my gaze leave hers. I finally get my feet to move, walking closer to her as I undo my pants.
“Blade, maybe we should …”