Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
For the second time in two days, I woke up in Cian’s arms.
I was in his bed, wrapped in his embrace, and until two seconds ago, I had been asleep on his bare chest. The ticklish pillow was his chest hair, and the thumps were his heartbeat.
I was in bed with Cian.
How the hell did I get in bed with Cian?
I shut my eyes as the events of the last couple days filtered through my aching head.
My reaction to Cian’s kisses had shocked me.
I liked them—I more than liked them.
They were thrilling. Heady. Enthralling. They made me feel things I’d never felt before.
I wanted more.
I wanted to feel him against me, his lips on mine, his hands caressing my body. I knew without a doubt, if Sean hadn’t interrupted us, we would have both lost ourselves in the moment. I also realized I actually had feelings for him. At some point, in the blink of an eye, he had ceased being the man who kidnapped me and became…Cian.
They were feelings I shouldn’t have.
He was a murderer. A criminal.
I couldn’t trust him.
Regardless of what he said, I had no idea what was going to happen to me when all this was over. He said I wasn’t going back to the streets.
But he never said where I would be going.
I sat up all night going over every detail of the time I’d been here—with him.
The detached, cruel look on his face when he murdered the man, who I now knew was an agent. One of the good guys.
His coldness and the way his eyes would flash with that dangerous gleam as he uttered his subtle threats with his gun hanging in his hand, his fingers stroking the cold metal nonchalantly.
His overbearing manner at times. His callous words.
But then…he would laugh.
His face would transform into one of breathtaking, rugged beauty. His gaze would soften, and he would look at me in a way that made my breath catch in my throat.
He made sure I was safe and warm. He brought me books and teased me. He let his guard down and played cards and games to keep me company. He acted like a kid and had a snowball fight with me, his rich laughter echoing in the cold air.
His green eyes shone with mirth when I’d insult him. Amusement was the only emotion he showed at my attempts to leave. Not once had he punished me for trying to escape. In fact, he was far more worried over my being hurt than the reason I was hurt in the first place.
Although I was pretty sure, after what I’d done, that was about to change.
After I’d run from him last night, I’d locked myself in my bathroom, sitting on the floor, shocked at the desire his mouth had stirred in me. Shocked how much I wanted him. I knew I was standing on the top of a dangerous slope—one I could easily fall down. He was everything my father fought against his entire life. He would be horrified if he were still alive and knew I’d lost my heart to a callous criminal.
I had to get out of here before that happened. I had to get away from him. As I stood, my small bag fell to the floor, the Tampax rolling out. Picking them up, I stilled as a plan formed.
It was my only shot. My last one.
Carefully, I’d pulled open a tube, looking at the small pills in the palm of my hand—the remainder of the sleeping pills I had kept hidden. I had enough of the sedative that I could knock them both out. I just had to figure out how to get it into some food.
When I had been outside earlier, I’d noticed a field stretching out in front of the house. Way in the distance, I saw hydro poles, indicating some sort of road existed. If I cut across the field, I could get to the road where the poles were. Find another house or hitch a ride and be gone by the time they woke up.
I could get as far away from here as possible.
Far enough away Cian couldn’t find me. I wasn’t important enough for him to search too long.
He’d forget about me eventually.
I’d ignored the little voice in my head asking me if I’d ever forget him.
I shifted in Cian’s arms. They tightened, his hand pushing my face into his chest. I felt the brush of his lips against my head, but he didn’t say anything.
Gathering my courage, I lifted my head, expecting to see anger in his green stare. But his gaze was soft, filled with concern and sadness.
His voice was low in the silence of the room. “How’s your head?”
“Okay,” I whispered, trying not to grimace. It ached like a bugger.
“Liar,” he murmured. He traced my cheek with his finger. “You could have killed us all, Kitten.”