Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 16136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
He knows what he wants: She knows it, too!
Lila
Lost in a storm in the mountains.
Rescued and sheltering with my girlfriends in a mountain camp –
a training camp for cage fighters. And the biggest is Boone.
Steam rises from him. His eyes are dark and broody blue.
He puts his hand on the wall next to me, his abs right there, within touching distance. My inner voice screams at me.
Do not touch this stranger. Do not even think about touching thisstranger. Go back to your bedroom now. Alone!
Do I listen?
Boone
That volcanic blush erupts onto her cheeks, cute, beautiful. Her!
Her hoodie and her jeans stick wetly to her curvy body.
I’ve never known myself to go nuts over the artistic type, but damn, she’s something else. A city girl. A college girl. Really?
She’s standing outside the cage looking. Innocent eyes – staring.
Something drives me crazy, something draws me to her.
If I sunk my greedy hands into the curviness of her hips, I’d be lost.
She has the control.
But when she steps into that ring with me.
That would be game over
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
LILA
“Maybe going faster would be better,” Rosa mutters as a bolt of lightning splits the sky and the Montana storm batters the car, making me feel like I’m inside a toy. “Outrun the storm?”
I’m tempted to pick up my camera and grab some snapshots of the devastation. The heating has tanked and a chill fills the car, a tingle dancing between my shoulder blades.
Rosa scowls across at me. “Really Lila, are you serious … smiling?”
I wipe the look off my face. “Nope.”
She nudges me playfully. “Liar.”
“Great,” Abby mutters.
“What?” I ask.
“Lights in the rear-view.. Being pulled over is just what we need.”
She stops the car at the side of the road … which overlooks a valley.
The cop climbs from the car, a large, tall man in a raincoat. When he gets closer, I see that his face is covered in a thick silver beard. His eyes are harsh as he pokes his head into the car and glares at Rosa. “Just what the hell do you city girls think you’re doing out in a storm like this? You got a goddamn death wish?”
“Who said we’re city girls?” Abby snaps back.
I don’t think now is the time for sassiness, but that’s Rosa being Rosa.
“Just follow me,” the cop says.
“You think we’re gonna just follow a stranger?”
“I’m Deputy Clint Harlan. Text your folks my name if you’re paranoid. I’m taking you someplace you can’t get yourself killed. We got an MMA training camp close by with some spare lodging. You can stay there until the weather clears. Road outta town is flooded anyhow. You’re stuck. So, die in the storm or follow.”
“I think we should follow him,” I say. “This storm isn’t getting any better.”
“I agree, but I wasn’t going to make it easy on the jerk.” Abby sighs and follows the flashing lights of the cop car through the growing darkness.
It takes fifteen minutes winding cautiously through thick woodland before we reach the camp. A silent, dark scattering of wooden cabins, their foundations reinforced with concrete. The deputy is scowling the entire time he shows around some simple, clean, and most importantly, dry rooms.
He looks at Abby in particular. “Showers are down there.” He nods at the hallway. “And kitchen is that way.” He points. “Have yourself a fine ol’ stay.”
Rosa stretches her arms over her head. “I’m beat.”
“Me too,” Abby mutters. “Let’s hope this storm clears tomorrow. For all we know that deputy could be some psycho. Maybe he’s not even a cop. Maybe the uniform is fake. This isn’t the sort of thing sensible people do.”
I can’t disagree … but what choice do we have?
The storm roars and screams like an angry god trying to make a point.
Well, point made.
We go to our rooms. After changing into some fresh clothes, I stand at the window, looking across the concrete plaza at the biggest cabin on the lot. Yellow lights beam defiantly into the darkness, like a big metaphorical middle finger to the bad weather.
I know I should stay put, but the entire point of this trip is to take unique and interesting photographs. Curiosity killed the cat, sure, but it might also let me finish college with a big proud bang.
Pulling on my raincoat and putting my camera in its waterproof bag, I quietly leave my room, tiptoe down the hallway, and leave our cabin. The wind tries to knock me off my feet as I walk toward the light.
Smack, smack, smack, I hear the moment I walk into the big cabin. Then a man’s voice, grizzled and tough, a voice that makes my heart pound and causes tension to shiver through me like a promise.
“You can’t quit,” the man snarls. “You can’t ever quit. Teeth knocked out, bones broken, it don’t matter a goddamn bit. You quit; you die. Understand?”
I walk past a mounted bear’s head, mouth open in a silent primal scream, into a large gym lit by harsh overhead lights. In the middle of the gym there’s a cage. A giant man stands in the middle, his brown beard glistening with subtle streaks of silver, sweat dripping down his heaving muscular body.
It’s a body that looks hot to the touch, like I’d burn my palm if I pressed it against his chest. His chest is huge, round, carved like rock, like he’s a part of this rugged landscape. He wears nothing but a pair of shorts, tight, outlining what I assume is his cup …
But what if it’s not? What if it’s his huge manhood?
I bite my lip. Feel my cheeks warm.
Calm down, Lila. You’re here for a job.
He stands over somebody who’s pressed against the cage, their hands raised over their head. I gasp as he sends a savage strike at the man on the floor.
“Are you going to get up?” he growls. “I know you want to quit. I can fucking smell how badly you want to quit. In the cage, you’ve got to be a predator to stand a chance. An injured lion doesn’t quit, kid. An injured lion is more dangerous.”