Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
He shut the door and changed into his clothes. “Come on,” he said, walking briskly out and taking her hand to tug her off the sofa.
“Where are we going?”
“Out,” he said, tugging her toward the garage. “You’re sick of being cooped up here, and so am I.”
He opened her door for her. She gazed up in bewilderment.
“There’s a taco place down the street that smells good. Can you walk in those shoes?” He wished he had somehow arranged to get her a change of clothes today. The poor girl was still in her work skirt and heels and the mauve t-shirt from Shayla.
She tugged her skirt down, as if it might cover more of her long, bare legs. “Yeah, definitely. How far?”
“Only a block. I’ll carry you if you get tired.”
She licked her lips, making his cock jerk in his pants. Flushing, she looked away. “That won’t be necessary,” she said, her voice huskier than usual.
Abruptly, he found himself pushing her up against the house, his body pressing against her soft curves. He cupped the side of her face, lifting it as if he was going to kiss her. He stopped himself just in time, freezing as he realized the inappropriateness of his actions. He’d just told her he couldn’t be in a relationship with her. What the hell was he doing?
He brushed his lips across her forehead, then her temple, then her lush lips. “Ashley… I’m a whole bundle of trouble. Look where working for me has already landed you—” He stopped, wanting to backpedal. He didn’t want her to stop working for him, no matter what happened. The thought of going back to Stone Technologies without her made him feel dead. “What I’m trying to say is…” Well, what the hell was he trying to say? Being so close to her, feeling her body against his, having her scent in his nostrils made it hard to formulate any thought.
He stroked her cheek with his thumb, a sense of both longing and loss giving him a tenderness he didn’t usually find. “Ashley, it’s so complicated. And I’m just… sorry.”
She thrust her chin forward in a cute show of defiance. “What is it? Why can’t you be with me? Just tell me.”
“It’s too dangerous. You’re human and I’m… not.”
She blinked rapidly, pushing him away from her and averting her face.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, standing back and extending his arm to allow her to pass him.
They walked down the street together, side by side. She felt dizzy from having his hard body pressed against hers, the aggressive way he pinned her sending a heady rush of lust rocketing through her body. Her emotions warred between anger and acceptance. She did believe Ben was sorry, but she didn’t want his apology, she wanted him.
“Ben?”
As usual for him, he didn’t answer, but he did look over.
“Do you miss Venezuela?” she asked.
It was the wrong thing to say. His mask slid back in place, lines hardening. “No,” he said, but it seemed like a lie—she saw pain in his expression. She remembered, belatedly, that his brother and father had been killed there. If she’d heard right, it had been some kind of grotesque death—like a wild animal… Oh. A wolf, of course.
“What happened there?” she asked softly. She held her breath, not really expecting an answer.
To her surprise, he spoke. “My father’s pack had been threatened takeover by another—a drug cartel of shifters. My brother had flown in to help him fight, but…” He swallowed and didn’t go on.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “And your mother? Is she still alive?”
He shook his head. “No. She died when I was twelve of cancer. Which isn’t supposed to affect wolves,” he said bitterly.
For once, she had nothing to say. She knew he didn’t want her pity. She reached out and touched his hand. He instantly laced his fingers through hers.
“I think—” he said, then cleared his throat. “I think she just didn’t want to go on living with my dad. He was a top-notch asshole, like me.”
Her chest tightened and her nose tickled, tears rising up for him. “That’s not you. You may play that part, but I know it’s not the real you.”
He lifted his eyes, looking stunned. She met his gaze evenly, transmitting her utter confidence in her statement. As if he couldn’t take it, he literally shook it off, like a dog shakes off water.
“I mean it. Sure, you’re a dick at times—okay, most of the time, but underneath it all, you are sweet.”
“No,” he said. “I’m really not. And you’re the only person on the planet who has ever described me that way.”
“Because I know the truth,” she said, lifting her chin and daring him to contradict her.
His expression wavered for a moment and he looked uncertain or lost. Then he did the same shaking motion he’d done a few minutes before. “No, you don’t,” he said bitterly.