Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
But instead of pressing the point, Huck’s hold softened. His hand slid absently along her side, drawing warmth through the fabric of her shirt. The man’s touch was a grounding force she didn’t know she needed until it was there.
They weren’t done talking, but for now, she let herself lean into him. And Huck, true to form, let her take the moment on her terms.
“I don’t think anyone from my father’s church would fire upon me, but that’s definitely an angle we need to look at. Considering someone shot at Abigail as well . . . the connection could be the two of us,” she mused.
The words tasted sour, thick with the bitterness of too many threads tangling into a knot she couldn’t quite unravel. Theories and probabilities spun through her mind, refusing to settle.
She let out a sigh, the sound rawer than she intended. “I’m tired of thinking about it.”
Huck barked out a laugh. “Laurel Snow is tired of thinking. Now, that’s a headline.”
She grinned, rolling her eyes. “Whatever.”
He laughed again, the rich sound vibrating against her skin where his chest pressed into her back. “I’ve never heard you say ‘whatever’ like that. There’s usually a long litany of words that come in front of it. Usually something about probability ratios or statistical anomalies.”
Laurel leaned back into him, shaking her head. “I’ve been spending time with Kate’s teenage daughters. I’m picking up on modern vernacular.”
“There we go.” His voice went dry, teasing. “A wonderful side effect of hanging around mere mortals.” He kissed her temple, sending a spark of warmth racing down her spine. The firelight danced around them, warming her in a safety she was beginning to rely upon. Huck’s heat was real, solid, the one constant she could actually rely on.
When his lips trailed from her temple to her jaw, the captain taking his time, she turned in his lap, using her knee as a lever to straddle him. Her hands tunneled into his hair, enjoying feeling the thick and unruly strands between her fingers.
He raised an eyebrow, his gaze locked onto hers with the kind of intensity that should have made her nervous. But instead, it settled her. Centered her.
“You sure you aren’t hurt?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
“Positive.” She leaned down and kissed him, letting herself sink into his heat.
His mouth was demanding, commanding even, as both of his hands clamped onto her hips, his fingers pressing into her skin.
The captain was all hard-cut muscle and unyielding strength, but his touch was careful. Measured. As if she were something breakable despite every bit of evidence to the contrary. She hummed her appreciation when he deepened the kiss, the world narrowing to the heat and pressure between them.
Huck pushed to his feet, his arms locked firmly around her. A startled laugh tore from her as her legs cinched around his waist.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Taking you to the bed.”
She murmured against his mouth, “I figured the couch.”
“No.” His words were firm, laced with that unyielding authority she’d come to rely on. “You’re still bruised and probably going to ache a lot more than you think, come tomorrow.”
Her heart warmed despite the sensible logic behind his words. As strong, intelligent, and well-trained as she was, Laurel could admit, just to herself, that she felt safe in the captain’s arms. It wasn’t about needing protection. It was about trusting someone to catch her when the world tilted off its axis.
He wouldn’t let her down. Huck was a dangerous man, his instincts honed to lethal precision. He would never let anyone get to her if he could help it, and that kind of protection came with a confidence she hadn’t realized she craved. She liked that . . . and him.
Growing up without her father around, not even knowing who he was, had been a blessing in disguise. She was quite unaccustomed to relying on the strength of a man, to leaning on someone and expecting them to hold their ground. Huck kept proving over and over again that he could be trusted. That he would be there.
And yet, they had jumped into a relationship far too soon. Without analyzing all the different angles, without mapping out the possibilities or properly assessing the variables. Even while on vacation, they hadn’t talked about long-term wants, needs, or goals. They’d just tried to heal from the loss, from several physical injuries they had both sustained, letting themselves fall into each other rather than sorting through the messy reality of what that actually meant.
Huck reached the bedroom and kissed her, his mouth going deep and insistent, carefully removing her clothing with a patience she didn’t expect. The captain could be both gentle and wildly rough when the occasion called for it. Tonight, apparently, called for gentle.
She tugged on his jeans, and he helped her remove them before tearing off his shirt. Then all of that hard, smooth muscle with several scars and scratches lay within reach. He covered her on the bed, but then rolled them over until she was on top of him, sprawled across his chest.