Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Shit. If I had known I was about to meet her, I would have at least showered or changed my clothes. I’m pretty sure I smell no better than a cow or a goat right now. The scent of earth and livestock clings to my worn flannel shirt, and there's probably hay stuck in my beard.
“Y-you’re not a killer, are you?”
The question comes out of left field, and I snort. Or maybe it does make sense. She did just launch herself to me, after all.
She pulls back just enough to look me in the eye. And that’s when I begin to spiral. Images of kissing her, devouring her mouth, shuffle through my mind. My breath catches, my fingers reflexively digging into her.
God, I want to kiss her. A thread of desire knots around me, tighter and tighter, until I’m fighting it on sheer willpower alone. My self-control hangs by a thread as thin as spider silk.
Something passes her features, and she blinks slowly. “Oh, hi. I’m Paris, by the way. Paris Page.”
It takes me about three seconds to remember my fucking name. “Parker. Parker Priest. I own the field.” And about two hundred acres surrounding it, but that detail seems irrelevant with her soft curves molded against my chest.
“You can put me down now.” Her words flutter against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the evening chill.
“I could.” I tighten my arms around her, and her mouth forms an ‘o’. “But do you want me to?”
Her brows twitch upward, her breath coming in uneven little puffs against my skin. She looks confused and conflicted, those expressive features broadcasting every thought that crosses her mind. Then she bites her bottom lip, worrying the pink flesh between her teeth in a way that makes my pulse thunder in my ears.
I know it's not supposed to be seductive—it's clearly a nervous habit—but my caveman brain and body don't know the difference. The sight of those perfect white teeth pressing into that soft flesh shorts out what's left of my rational thinking.
Without thinking—because thinking clearly isn't something I'm capable of right now—I reach up. My rough, calloused fingers brush her chin, and I tug her lip free with my thumb. Her lip pops from between her teeth, red and wet from the pressure, and my thumb lingers at the edge of her mouth, tracing the tender flesh before I can stop myself.
Paris sucks in a soft, sharp breath, her eyes as wide as saucers. Her breathing becomes ragged, and just as she’s about to open her mouth to say something, the skies open up.
Rain dumps like a flipped bucket, cold and sudden, slapping through the corn and soaking us in seconds.
“Shit,” I say, shifting her in my arms. “Hang on.”
I carry her through the field, boots slipping once on the muddy path, her arms tight around my neck. The small white farmhouse glows ahead, porch lights flickering warm and yellow through the curtain of rain.
Warmth rushes out to meet us as I reach the door and push it open with my shoulder. Inside, I set her down gently, but the moment she pulls back, I freeze.
Her shirt.
That soaked white T-shirt clings like a second skin. Thin cotton molds to her body, hugging every dip and curve. Her chest rises and falls, nipples visibly taut beneath the fabric, her skin flushed from the cold and the rush and maybe something else.
My cock jerks to attention before I can stop it.
“Y-you w-were p-probably wondering why I was crying.”
I couldn’t say anything if I wanted to. I’m just so damn busy adjusting my pants. My sense of equilibrium has shifted, and I don’t know what to make of it.
“I got lost in the maze, sure, but there’s this guy…”
White-hot fury floods in my veins, and I snap my head back to her. “Did he hurt you?”
Paris waves both hands and shakes her head. “Not in that way, no. He’s my boss at the magazine where I work. He’s been on to me ever since I said no to a coffee date. And he keeps giving me assignments designed to make me quit. This was the last straw. I was supposed to cover a major woman-owned brand opening, but he sent me here instead. When I got lost, I just kind of lost it.” She looks at me through her long, wet lashes and smiles shyly. “Sorry for dumping this on you.”
“That’s okay.” Inside, I’m fuming. Who the fuck is this asshole? When I get my hands on him, I would— wait. Wait a damn minute. Why am I reacting like this? Where’s this protective instinct coming from? Shit. I’m getting whiplash from all the emotions pinging through me ever since I first saw her. “I’ll go grab you some clothes.”