Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
“I’m efficient.”
“Unhinged.”
“Effective.”
“You know that’s not normal.” He grins.
“You know you’re not normal.” I grin back.
“I’m aware.”
“Normal doesn’t keep people alive.”
“You win.” He yawns mid-breath, jaw stretching, exhaustion clinging to the creases in his beautiful face.
“That’s it.” I stand and power off the monitors. “Bedtime.”
“Every part of me says yes.”
We head upstairs, the house unnervingly quiet. At the landing, uncertainty plants my feet. I know this guest house, memorized its blind spots, entry points, and every room. Two bedrooms. One choice too many.
He doesn’t give me time to decide.
Capturing my wrist, he steers me down the hall, opens his bedroom door, and gestures me inside.
“You’ve been alone for too damn long.” He toes off his shoes. “You’re not sleeping by yourself tonight.”
Relief funnels through me, and a contained little thrill hums under my skin. I feel younger for it. Reckless in a way that doesn’t end with bloodstains under my fingernails.
We shed our shirts and leave on our lounge pants, drawing a line neither of us pretends doesn’t exist. My gaze catches anyway.
Wolf’s chest, pale and quilted with scars, is devastating. It doesn’t take away from his stunning perfection. It tells a story of strength and resilience, one I hope to hear more about someday.
I stare too long, and he notices.
“You know how it happened.” He rubs his thumb over a raised, pink line near his hipbone.
“Your journal.” I soften my eyes, relaying compassion and admiration the best way I know how.
“Will you tell me how you got yours?” He eases into my space and runs a palm over the stab wound beneath my rib cage.
“Before Adrian Crowe saw me as a weapon to use, he saw me as a loose end. He tried to kill me more times than I can count.” I rest a hand over Wolf’s on my scar. “This is the only time he got close enough to do it himself.”
His eyes widen. “The night in the California tavern? Your meeting with him?”
“You listened to the audio file.”
“Yeah. You wouldn’t take his offer.” His jaw hardens. “So the cunt shanked you?”
“Got me good, but I survived.”
And he didn’t, thanks to Wolf.
“Come on.” I shut off the lights, dropping the room into shadow.
We slide into bed and turn onto our sides, facing each other. Close enough to feel body warmth. Not near enough to touch. The space between us thrums, and neither of us moves.
“There’s something I need to say.” He inches toward me until his legs rest against mine. “I don’t want commentary. Just… Hear me out.”
I stay still.
“We both love Dove.” He clears his throat. “And I love fairy tales.”
I swallow, knowing where this is going.
“You know my family.” He watches me in the dark. “Four people. Married. It works. It’s my normal. A three-way situation isn’t wild in my world. It’s a plus-one plus-one. You plus Dove plus me. That’s the math, if you’re wondering where we’re headed. The cartel notwithstanding.”
“Dove hates me.”
He tsks softly. “She hates what she thinks you are. When you tell her about Celeste’s promise and every ugly choice and sacrifice you made to keep her alive, she’s going to fall into your arms.” A velvet whisper. “And your bed.”
My pulse thuds as longing gathers low and fierce, a dangerous bloom. The images form, uninvited and vivid, the three of us tangled, kissing and sucking and fucking. My body reacts before my discipline can shut it down, quickening my breath and hardening my dick.
“This isn’t a fate you can control.” He brushes his fingers along my erection and pulls me flush against him. “It’s going to happen.”
I lie there in his arms, jaw locked and blood pumping, wishing, hoping, praying he’s right.
“I did some online shopping.” His voice is soft, the edges blunted by sleep. “You’ll have clothes by tomorrow.”
I stiffen. His fashion sense only works because it’s him. On me, it would be absurd. I’m bracing for sequins, leotards, Hawaiian prints, things that require confidence I don’t possess.
“Relax.” He squeezes my ass, affectionate and infuriating. “I behaved.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I got you denim.” He yawns. “The straight-leg variety that says I pay taxes and nothing else. Black jeans that look identical to the blue ones, you know, for when you want options without emotional risk. Plain crew-neck tees in all the aggressively normal colors. Henleys with buttons, but only a few. We’re not animals. Socks in thrilling, electrifying beige. Work boots, stomp-approved. Boxer briefs, boner-approved. Dark hoodie with pockets for secrets, and so many more uninspiring pieces. You’ll fit in just fine with all the other boring white people.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.” My shoulders ease.
“Full disclosure. Dove is a way better shopping experience.”
“I bet.” I trail my fingers along his jaw, slow and grateful. “Thank you. I’ve been living out of a bag so long I forgot what it’s like to have options.”