Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
He kisses me softly this time. “Mine,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Yours,” I agree. “Always yours.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ashland
I wake before dawn like I always do, but this time there's warmth pressed against me. Bianca's curled into my side, one hand resting on my chest, her breathing slow and even.
Christ, I could watch her sleep for hours.
But I've got shite to do today, and the sooner I handle it, the sooner I can get back to her.
She’s here now. She’s safe.
I press a kiss to her temple, gentle as I can manage. “I have to go,” I murmur against her skin. “Just for a little while, but I promise you're safe here.”
Being home, surrounded by family, by people I trust with my life, I can finally breathe properly. The tension I've been carrying for weeks uncoils from my shoulders. Out at the cabin, it was just me between her and the world. Here, I've got my cousins, my brothers. Here, she's protected by more than just me.
“Where are you going?” Her voice is sleepy, soft.
“I've got training with Cavin. Put it off for a while, but—” I shrug. “I promised. And I have a little research to do while I'm out.”
Research. That's one word for it. What I really need to do is track down every last detail about Marcus Crowning's movements, his connections, his weaknesses. Need to know exactly what kind of threat we're dealing with before I eliminate it, eliminate him, permanently.
But she doesn't need to know that yet. Not when she's finally starting to trust me, to smile at me like she did last night.
“Alright,” she says, and I kiss the softness of her cheek because I can't help myself.
“Christ, it's hard to leave you. I love having you here,” I murmur, nuzzling into her, breathing her in. She wraps her arms around me, or tries to, anyway, her small hands barely spanning my back, and kisses the top of my head.
The gesture breaks something open in my chest.
“God, woman…” I half groan. “Don’t be so fucking sweet. It's hard enough to leave you.”
“Come back to me then,” she whispers. “Will you?”
I kiss her thoroughly.
When did I become her safe place? When did she stop flinching away from me and start reaching for me instead? I don't know the exact moment, but I know I'll spend the rest of my life earning that trust, that softness she's started to show me.
“I can see you thinking,” I tell her, because I can. Every emotion plays across her face, as if she's reading aloud. “You think out loud. It's the cutest thing.”
“Do I?” She smiles, then actually laughs, and the sound makes my chest tight.
I brush a strand of hair from her eyes, then push myself up on my hands. The sheet falls away, and I know she can see how hard I am for her. Again.
“You really are attracted to me, aren't you?” she says, teasing, the corners of her lips quirking up. “You think I'm pretty.”
Pretty? Pretty?
“Did you just call yourself pretty?” My cock throbs, demanding attention I can't give it right now. “Just told you I have to go, and you’re trying to delay me by making me punish you again?”
“Hey,” she says, shy yet bold at the same time, as if she wants to push me, but it still makes her a wee bit nervous. Fucking adorable. I can see her pulse jumping in her throat. “I did. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Problem?” I wrap my fingers in her hair, pulling her head back just enough to make her gasp. “Aye, lass. That's the understatement of the year. You're fuckin’ gorgeous.”
I punctuate each word with kisses to her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat, where I want to bite, mark, claim.
“I suppose I'm cute,” she says, deliberately pushing me. The little brat.
“Cute?” My voice drops low, dangerous. “That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble, darlin'. Keep it up, and I'll turn that arse pink while you're tellin' me all the ways you're more than just cute.”
“What?” She's trying to sound innocent, but her thighs press together, and I know exactly what that means. “What's so wrong about that?”
“It's one step away from being derogatory,” I say, going stern because she responds to it, gets wet for it.
“Alright, okay, whatever,” she says, sass dripping from every word.
That does it.
I grab both her wrists, loop my fingers around them, and pin her to the headboard above her head. She's completely at my mercy, and we both know it.
“That's it,” I tell her. “I’m out of time, and you know it. So when I get home tonight, you are gettin’ it.”
“Oh, really?” Her eyes are bright, challenging. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
“My god, I don't even have the ability to scare you anymore,” I say, though my heart's soaring. “Did I lose my edge?”