Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“What’s this from?” He flicked his thumb over my scar.
When I was twelve, I’d been burned on a camping trip when a flaming leaf from the campfire blew into my lap. It had been the most painful thing I’d ever endured, and his touch now was enough of a reminder, it was like I’d been burned there all over again.
My teeth chattered with anxiety. Giving him any information was a mistake, and the last thing I wanted him to know was my greatest fear.
“I . . . fell off my bike when I was little.”
His lips were on my collarbone. “Now I want to know why you just lied.”
“Because you’ll use it against me.” My tone was pleading. “Tell me what you gave me.”
“When we got back here, I gave you a local anesthetic and redid your stitches.”
I stared at the water falling behind him, refusing to look at him. “Why do I feel like this?”
“Like what?” he asked. “Like every cell of your body is alive? Unbelievably turned on?” He lightly raked his nails over my thighs, making me squirm. “It was MDMA. Do you like it?”
Feeling like I had no control? “No. Why’d you—”
“I wanted to kiss you, and I got tired of waiting.”
My stupor was a blanket wrapped around my brain. I couldn’t focus. All I could interpret was that I didn’t like this idea. I raised my hand and tried to slap him. I was successful in the attempt to move, but he caught my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist.
Then he used it to pull me up, right into his embrace.
The water was so warm.
His body was hot and hard against mine, his skin wet pressed to mine. Every nerve-ending tingled.
“What are you hiding from me?” He feathered kisses over my bruised cheek as his hands settled on the small of my back.
It came out even when I didn’t want it to. “She’s pregnant.”
He tensed. “I’m aware. I saw the picture at your place. That no longer matters to me.” A guilty smile flashed across his face as he relaxed. “Now you know that, like you, I also have a temper.”
It came into focus. The picture from the Swan Lake opening night, where Laurel was clearly pregnant, had sent him into a fit of rage. That was why my apartment had been trashed.
His kiss was forceful and intense, and I shut my eyes against it, pretending to be somewhere else, with someone else. The man I was falling for, who I wanted more than anyone else.
“Shawn,” I cried, barely audible.
Juric had a physical reaction to the name like I’d cut him, and for a moment neither of us could breathe.
“I am not the marshal’s brother.” It came out just loud enough to hear over the water, but it was dark and horrifying. Color rose from his neck, rapidly ascending into his face. Then his hands were around my throat, firm. “My name is Ryan. Say it.”
The water that poured from the showerhead felt like it was straight off a glacier. Survive. That was what I had to do. Maybe rescue was on its way now. I could only hope it wasn’t too late.
“Ryan.” It was barely a word.
He sneered, released me, and flung the shower door open in a huff. When hands hooked under the waistband of his drenched boxers, I squeezed my eyes shut. There was a sopping noise as he tossed the fabric into the sink.
When I finally opened my eyes, there was a towel wrapped around his waist. He disappeared from the room, slamming the door behind him.
An anguished sigh fell out of my mouth. I grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed until my body was raw, but I couldn’t get the feel of his hands off my skin. My stomach rolled when I recalled his lips on mine.
There was a robe on a hook, and once the shower had run cold, I cloaked myself in it, leaving my soaked undergarments on. How much longer would the drugs be in my system? I didn’t know when I had ingested them, but it felt like hours. How much longer was I going to feel like this? Until he was done toying with me and killed me?
As soon as the shower was off, he knocked on the door. “I’m coming in.”
He was dressed but still dangerous. All that stood between his hands and my body was a robe that I quickly knotted again. But seeing him now had a focusing effect. The drugs weren’t gone, but they were wearing down. I no longer had the sick urge to smile, and my cut was beginning to hurt again.
“You need to drink some more water.”
“No, thanks,” I said.
He grabbed an empty glass off the counter and filled it with water from the tap, passing it to me. “No drugs. Once you drink all of this, you can have some dinner.”