Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 129955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Carver just stares before slowly pressing into me again, both our hearts racing a million miles an hour as our chests rise and fall with rapid movements. His forehead presses against mine as his hand slips up my body and curls around my neck just as it was before.
He holds me there, neither of us saying a word until we catch our breath, then like a slap in the face, he pulls back and meets my eyes with a heavy regret. “I don’t share.”
Carver drops his hands from my body and pulls himself away, the loss of his strong body against mine almost painful. He starts stalking back through the woods and all I can do is stare after him, pressing my hand against my swollen lips to keep myself from crying out.
Why does his rejection cut so deep?
I sink to the dirty ground, my chest beginning to rise and fall with those same rapid movements, only this time for a completely different reason. Not knowing how to react to his rejection, my head falls into my hands and I will myself not to cry. Why is it stinging like this? He’s pushed me away before and I didn’t burst into tears then, though I did sneak out and try to beat the shit out of a drunken pervert.
Fuck me. When will I learn? I keep allowing him to draw me into his trap and I go willingly each and every fucking time.
Stupid. I’m so fucking stupid.
I’m not going to sit here and cry about it. I need to shake it off and make him regret it. Good fucking plan. Besides, there’s a whole bar down there with my name on it, a best friend ready to help pour it down my throat, and two guys willing to fuck me until I can’t remember my own damn name.
I’m good. I don’t need Carver.
I go to pull myself up when Carver’s loud panicked roar tears through the woods. “WINTER. GET DOWN.”
On instinct I drop to the ground just as a loud BANG echoes through the woods and a perfectly round bullet slams into the tree behind me, right where my head used to be.
CHAPTER 33
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Bullets fly past my face and I scramble to my feet. Is some motherfucker seriously trying to shoot me right now, just moments after being rejected by a man like Dante Carver? Fuck me, they picked the wrong bitch to mess with right now. Just wait till I get my hands on the asshole.
What the fuck is going on? “CARVER?” I cry. Where the fuck is he?
BANG.
My terrified scream rips from my throat as the bullet grazes past my face, the panic soaring through me as I run through the woods, desperate to get away. My arm scrapes along broken branches as my ankles threaten to twist on the uneven ground. Why the fuck did I wear these boots?
BANG. BANG.
Damn it. If I had a fucking gun right now ...
The noise is so loud and it echoes through the darkened woods, making it impossible to figure out which direction it’s coming from. I hear the sounds of the bullets sinking into the trees around me, coming way too close for comfort.
My heart races as panic tears through me. I have to get out of here. I run. I run as fast as I fucking can, trying to follow the direction that Carver had just gone, but I’ve never felt so lost.
Who the hell is after me? I didn’t do anything. I swear.
“WINTER?”
Tears stream down my face as I try to run through the woods, my tears only making it that much harder to see where I’m going. “Carver? Where are you?”
“RUN. FUCKING RUN.”
Leaves whip past my face, stinging as I focus on putting one foot after another. I’ll deal with injuries afterward, that’s assuming I get out of this alive. What the hell is this? Is this Dynasty? Did Sam realize I got away and is trying to deal with loose ends?
FUCK.
I race like my life depends on it because it fucking does, darting and twisting past massive trees like some kind of deranged maze. I fly over a fallen branch and my stiletto heel instantly comes down on an angle. I fall to the ground, feeling my arm get cut up as I roll over broken branches. My heart is in my throat and I find it nearly impossible to take a deep breath.
I hear more gunfire and the sound of feet slamming against the hard earth, coming closer, way too close. There’s a scuffle and loud grunts then more gunfire, but this one is more like a PEW, PEW, and I pray to whoever lives above that someone is firing back at the asshole trying to shoot me down.
Terror flies through me and I scramble back to my feet, desperately wishing that I could be anywhere but here. I take off at a sprint. “GET DOWN.”