Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Another bout of regret.
Right.
My attention dropped to the floor as my stomach got tangled in his guilt.
His hand returned to my hair, tugging my face back up to meet the ferocity in his. “Last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
An awkward, self-deprecating smile pulled at the edge of my mouth. “I think it’s likely too late for that. But I’ll take whatever time I have with you.”
I just threw it out there.
My heart tossed at his feet.
Reservations held his tongue, and when he didn’t say anything else, I blew out a sigh and pushed to my feet. Turning away from him, I went to his shower and turned on the showerhead, and I stood there while it warmed.
Steam began to fill the room.
“You need to get in and get those cuts cleaned. I’m going to get you some ibuprofen.”
He gave a slight nod, the man completely bare as he eased toward me.
My pulse got all erratic and thready again.
He came up right to my side, and his hand spread over my left cheek while his mouth came to my right temple. “Thank you. For taking care of me.”
“I told you before that I wanted to be there for you.”
“Because that’s what friends do?” There was an edge to it.
God, I felt lost. Teetering on unknown ground.
I swallowed around the rock lodged at the base of my throat. “Yeah, because that’s what friends do.”
He stepped into the spray and shut the door, and I darted out into the main room.
Trying to catch my breath.
Or my sanity, really.
My self-preservation.
Because really, Tessa McDaniels, what the hell do you think you’re doing?
I kept tossing myself at him, begging him to break me.
I inhaled a shaky breath, and I moved into the dimly lit kitchen. I rummaged around in the cabinet where he kept his medicines. I found the bottle of ibuprofen, and I shook out four because I knew he might be tough, but no man was immortal.
I ran a glass under the faucet, then I had to steel myself all over again when I crept back to his room.
He was already shutting off the shower when I got back inside. The shower door clicked open, and he grabbed for the towel that hung on the rack.
He wrapped it around his waist, the man wet when he stepped out.
Droplets dripped from his long, black hair and down into his beard, and he had streams of glittering rivulets running down his marred chest.
Gah, why did he have to be so everything?
“Here you go,” I whispered as I eased forward. He tossed all four of them back and chugged the water.
“Are you sure you don’t need to go to the ER?” I chanced again.
“Think I got all the medicine I needed.”
Right.
Blow jobs saved lives.
“Let me at least bandage the cut on your temple.”
“Okay.”
I was almost surprised that he agreed, and he sat down on the edge of the bathtub like a good little patient.
I tried to hold my breath as I gathered the bandages and ointment from the medicine cabinet.
I wasn’t sure I could handle more of him.
His aura that’d turned haunting yet hummed with want.
A dark, glowing amber that I could almost feel slipping through my veins.
He kept slanting his gaze up at me as I applied the ointment with a Q-Tip, then carefully placed the butterfly bandage on his temple.
So attuned.
So right.
“There.”
He gave me a tight nod, then stood.
Warily, I backed away.
He flicked off the bathroom light, and I made a beeline for his bedroom door.
I whimpered when he looped one of his giant arms around my front, yanking me back against his chest. His mouth came to my ear, a low roll of seduction. “Stay with me tonight. I don’t want to be alone.”
My eyes squeezed tight.
I should hightail my ass right out of there.
Stop this thing that neither of us understood.
My spirit ached.
Because I wanted it.
To be there for him when he needed me.
I nodded, letting this man, who was going to do me in, lead me to his bed.
He lifted the covers. “In you go, Little Dove.”
There he was, back to all that softness he wore at the club.
The quiet protector.
The gentle monster.
He moved across the room to his dresser and opened a drawer just as he dropped his towel.
I forced myself to stare at the ceiling as he pulled on a fresh pair of underwear, but I couldn’t look away when I felt the tremoring of the ground when he slowly edged back toward the bed.
My breaths turned shallow.
His big body filled the space.
Intimidating and rough and overpowering.
The bed creaked when he crawled onto the mattress.
A tremor rocked me when he tucked my back to his chest, the two of us lying on our sides.
Silence stretched long, both satisfying and insufficient.
“Wish I had my heart to give you, Tessa. Peace. Safety,” he finally murmured into the dense air.