Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
“And torture us,” Violet says sassily. “We get the point.”
“You better,” I growl, “because this matters.”
“I need to use the bathroom.”
“I’ll come with you.”
She sits forward, glaring at me. There’s heat in her cheeks. I wonder if it’s the same heat as when I grabbed her arms, holding her and never wanting to let go.
“I don’t need a chaperone.”
“She’s fine,” Andrew says, looking at me firmly. “She knows we’re safer with you than on our own. Don’t you, Violet?”
“Sure.” She pushes the door open. “I feel so safe.”
I want to jump from the car and chase after her, spin her around, and pull her into my arms.
“Stop being so bratty,” I’ll snarl, and then kiss her with all the passion stowed up inside of me.
“I need to go, too,” Andrew says. “I won’t be long.”
I drive the car into the station to one of the pumps.
Then… there’s movement to my left. I’ve spent a long time honing my instincts, learning to trust the ones which need to be trusted and push down the ones I can afford to ignore.
Dammit. It’s Violet, running into the forest, her wavy brown hair bouncing up and down her back. What is she doing?
I duck my head and jog after her, my boots crushing the brush as I dart through the trees. She’s making noise up ahead, clumsily pushing aside the vegetation, and then I sprint so that I emerge in front of her. She stops short, her eyes widening, her hands raised.
“Where are you going?” I growl, unfairly hurt.
She wants to leave me. Of course she does, but that doesn’t take away the shiver of agony.
“I can’t do this,” she whispers, shaking her head. “The mafia… Dad… it’s all too much. Everything’s too much, Luke. I can’t do this.”
I approach her, my hands raised. “So, you ran into the forest?”
“Don’t be a dick,” she snaps. “I just… I had to get away. I don’t know.”
“Look at me, Violet.” I make my voice steady, meeting her eyes. “I think you’re having a panic attack. Breathe slowly with me.”
“I’ve… I’ve… had them before,” she whimpers.
I place my hands on her shoulders, gentler this time, though it takes an effort not to squeeze with ownership. To let her know with my possessive touch she’ll always be mine, never belong to anybody else, can’t belong to anybody else.
“Breathe slowly,” I whisper.
She nods, following my lead, drawing in a big breath, and letting it out shakily.
Breath after breath, she begins to calm down, tears filling her eyes.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Which is it? Is it okay, or is it going to be? Those are two different things.”
“Right now…” I gesture to the forest. “Nothing bad’s happening. We’re all good. There’s no reason to lose control.”
“That’s pretty Zen for a kidnapper,” she says, laughing shakily.
I laugh along with her, and then the laughter takes on a life of its own. We lock eyes and just let it out of us, as though we’ve turned a valve, throwing our laughter into the air where it clashes and joins.
She cuts short, trembling. I grab her arms and squeeze them with what I hope is support, but there’s too much lust whelming inside of me, too much focus on making this woman mine and mine alone.
Even now, the hunger in me rages.
“I try not to think about it,” she whispers.
“About what?”
She stares up at me, her lips shuddering, body trembling. “I can’t talk about it. Not now. Not ever.”
“We are talking about it,” I tell her, slipping my hands from her shoulder, across her back, and moving our bodies closer together.
She whimpers gently, a note in her voice telling me I’ve done the right thing. When she raises her hands to my chest, I think I might be wrong, that she might push me away. Then she squeezes down, digging her fingernails through my shirt.
The cold air kisses us, but it’s no match for the warmth whelming between us. It can’t come close to competing.
“You don’t have to be afraid of anything,” I growl, knowing I could go too far, but finding it so difficult to withhold everything I feel when I’m close to my woman. “I’m here. I’ll protect you.”
“It’s nothing,” she snaps. “Just ancient history.”
“If it was nothing—”
She leans back in my embrace. She hasn’t acknowledged the fact we’re hugging, hasn’t mentioned how close we are, our bodies pushing nearer every moment. It’s like it feels as natural to her as it does to me, as though she feels the same irresistible pull.
“You don’t just get to ask about that. You don’t get to break down my walls and…”
“And what?” I growl.
“Pretend you care,” she cries, moving as if to disentangle herself from my embrace.
I hold her tight. I hold her so she knows I’ll never release her. I hold her so she must feel the possessive instincts in my touch shimmering through me.