Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
But I liked sex, and I definitely liked him, and I worried if he kissed me again like he had in the car, and this time with a bed nearby—things would get out of control.
Maybe not buying them would keep me from acting on my desire. Plus, I had no idea how I would explain them when, not if, he found the box. I hurried away from the aisle.
After checking out, I changed into new clothes in one of the stalls of the bathroom, ripping the tags off the pink panties and sliding them on.
He had changed too by the time we reconnected at the front of the store, looking better and more enticing to me. Our things were put in the trunk along with the groceries he’d bought, and we hustled into the car to get back on the road and out of the cold.
The temperature had dropped significantly throughout the day and dark clouds rolled in, blocking the afternoon sun. Fat drops of freezing rain pelted the windshield as we began the ascent into the lonely, hilly landscape.
“Shit,” he muttered, turning on the wipers. “The driveway’s long and steep.”
If the rain continued, it’d be coated in ice, and he worried out loud that the car wouldn’t be able to make the climb. We sped along the winding roads, and it caused me to grit my teeth.
I’d escaped from Frey twice now, so it’d be ironic to die skidding off the road and into a tree.
The heavy rain made the atmosphere inside the car tense and quiet. The forest closed around us, exaggerating the narrowness of the road, and the thick rain clouds made it all that much darker.
There didn’t appear to be any other houses around. Every once in a while, a mailbox would jut out from the trees, but the driveway beside it wound into the dense forest and disappeared.
When there were no more mailboxes, I was sure we were in the middle of absolutely nowhere. “Are we lost?”
The rain beat down on the car in a constant roar. “No.”
Seconds later, he turned off the road and the car powered up the drive, tires slipping the whole way. It wasn’t that bad of a hill, I thought, as we reached the top of the crest—
“Oh,” I said, my face falling.
The path led down and then rose up into a much bigger, much more serious hill.
The sedan barely made it ten feet up the drive before we started to slide backward, the rear of the car drifting to the right in a horrifying, out-of-control feeling. Jason’s second attempt was more terrifying, and I closed my eyes, willing the car to stop.
When it did, he stilled and took a breath. “Damnit.”
Ahead, a set of wooden stairs led up the hillside.
“Shall we take the stairs?” My poor attempt at a joke fell flat. Neither of us had rain jackets, and it was only going to get darker and slicker with time.
“It’s freezing out there.”
Obviously. “You want to stay here?”
“No,” he said, “but I should warn you, it’s a hike.”
It wasn’t like we had a choice. I buttoned up my jacket as much as I could, took a deep breath, and flung my door open.
We hurried to get what we could carry out of the car, but by the time we reached the steps, we were already soaked to the bone. My hair was plastered to my face, and no matter how many times I tried to push it back, it returned, blinding me. How the hell did the wind seem to blow from every direction?
A crack of lightning encouraged me to quicken my pace, and a dull roll of thunder reverberated through the trees.
“Why didn’t we stay in the car again?” I yelled over the storm in another humorless joke that he ignored. He hadn’t been joking, either; it was quite a hike.
I could not wait to get out of the cold rain pelting me, yet when I reached the landing at the top of the steps, I jerked to a stop.
“Where’s the cabin?” I demanded.
He continued moving forward. “You’re looking at it.”
I’d expected an old, small, one-bedroom house that his brother used for hunting or fishing trips, maybe something marginally more than a shack. A cabin.
Not a sprawling, modern-looking mansion nestled in the woods with a four-car garage. It perfectly illustrated how little I knew about the man who was following the landscaped path up to the ornate glass door like this wasn’t a big deal.
He stood under the roof covering the front porch before he turned to look at me, his expression cryptic. “Laurel, it’s okay.”
At least it was dry on the porch. Once I joined him, my teeth chattered loudly, and he slid open the screen on the security panel. But he looked . . . confused.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.