Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 68716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Distance. Angle. Weight. Momentum.
If he swings, I’ll see it coming a mile away. I’ll side-step, grab his wrist, put him on the ground slow or hard depending on how stupid he wants to be about it.
But then I feel Holley behind me shift. Hear the tiny hitch in her breathing.
She doesn’t need a brawl in her driveway. She doesn’t need cops and reports and neighbors peeking through curtains.
She needs this whole mess gone.
I need an exit. Fast.
A thought hits.
It’s reckless and half-formed and inappropriate.
But it’s clean.
Redirect attention. Reframe the situation. Give Eric a reason to back off that he can understand on his level: territorial bullshit and wounded pride.
Mission accepted: get the asset—Holley—out of immediate danger with minimal collateral damage.
“I’ve really had about enough of this,” I say, letting my boredom drip through my tone. Then I turn my head just enough to catch Holley’s eyes.
She looks startled, panicked, cheeks flushed from cold and humiliation. There’s an apology there, like she’s sorry this is impacting me.
I make a tiny movement with my chin. A silent question. You trust me?
Her lips part. She hesitates.
Then—barely, but it’s there—she gives the smallest nod.
That’s all I need. In the next heartbeat, I pivot.
I step into her space, one arm sliding around her waist, the other bracing against the side of her car.
Her eyes go wide. A tiny gasp escapes her.
“Tony—?” she starts, barely a whisper.
Too late.
I lower my head, my lips to hers, I kiss her.
I don’t make it gentle. I don’t make it violent either. I give it shape and intention: a claim, a story, a message.
Back off. She’s not available.
Her lips are soft and cold from the night air. She tastes faintly like the cheap coffee they sell at the gas station in town and maybe toothpaste from an hour ago. For a split-second she’s frozen, shocked, and I’m prepared to pull away instantly if she shoves me.
She doesn’t.
Her fingers fist in the leather at my sides, and then she makes this tiny sound in the back of her throat and shifts. Not much. Just enough.
Her mouth softens under mine, then her lips part, breath mingling with mine, chilly and sweet. It’s like she falls into the kiss on instinct, the way some people fall into a hug they didn’t know they needed until it was already happening.
Heat sparks low in my gut, unexpected and sharp.
Well, hell.
This was supposed to be a tactic.
Suddenly it’s something else too.
I push that thought away, keep my head in the game. Our tongues dance like old friends happily reunited once again. I tip the angle of my head, deepening the kiss just enough to sell it. My hand tightens at her waist, thumb brushing the curve of her hip. Her body presses against mine, curves fitting in ways that my brain absolutely does not have time to consider right now.
I hear Eric swear behind me.
Good.
Mission accomplished.
I keep the kiss going a second longer than necessary, because breaking away too fast makes it look staged. People believe what they see repeated, what’s drawn-out, not quick flashes.
Her fingers tighten on my jacket again, just for a moment, like she’s holding on.
I force myself to ease back.
We both breathe hard when our mouths separate, warm puffs of air mingling between us in the cold. Her eyes are enormous, pupils blown wide, lips a little swollen.
There’s confusion there. And something else.
“Damn,” I murmur, loud enough for Eric to hear, letting a slow, crooked grin pull at my mouth. “I’ve missed those lips.”
Her brows twitch up, surprised, but she doesn’t contradict me.
Behind me, Eric sputters. “What the—You—Who the hell are you to—”
I don’t look at him.
I keep my gaze on her, on the little pink flags blooming in her cheeks, on the way her breathing starts to settle.
Time to move.
“Let’s get inside and warm up, baby,” I say, making the endearment sound natural, long-practiced.
Before she can overthink, I reach down and thread my fingers through hers.
Her hand is small and cold in mine. She stiffens for a second, then squeezes back.
That’s our story, then.
I turn us toward the cabin like I’ve done it a thousand times before, like this is something we always do—argue outside, kiss, go in, shut the world out. Like Eric is nothing but an inconvenient stranger shouting into the wind.
I don’t give him a single glance as I lead her up the steps.
He swears again, voice cracking around the edges.
“Holley!” he shouts. “What the fuck was that? You seeing some old biker now? Seriously?”
I open the front door with my free hand like it’s my place, not hers, and usher her inside.
“Don’t forget to lock it behind me,” I say casually. I memorized the lock code from the reservation.
Even though we both know she’s the one who lives here.
She steps over the threshold, head ducking as if trying to make herself small.