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)
I clutched at his big hand he had stretched out over the booming in my chest. “I don’t need your heart, Milo.”
And I was sure, as I drifted to sleep in his arms, that it was the greatest lie I’d ever told.
TWENTY-THREE
MILO
“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” A fiery ball of red came streaking out the back door, full of steam and lookin’ like the best kind of fantasy.
Stealing my breath and sanity, because clearly, I had lost my goddamn head.
She came bounding down the porch steps, barefoot, hair wild and her stunning face glowing, girl still wearing those sleep shorts and tank she’d had on last night when she’d climbed down onto her knees and blown my mind.
I arched a brow at her from where I was leaned over the worktable measuring a 2x4, and I ran a pencil along the ruler to mark my cut. “Working.”
She came to a stop on the other side of the table, a hand propped on her hip, sass flying from her mouth. “Um, yes, I see that, and you got beaten to a pulp last night. Are you insane? You cannot be out here working today.”
She flung a hand in the direction of the wood I was measuring.
A grumble of a laugh left me.
She was fucking cute when she was mad. Hell, she was cute all the time.
Asleep in my bed with all that hair around her.
In my arms and making these tiny noises while she was lost to a dream.
On her knees with my cock in her mouth.
You pick.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You should be in a hospital right now.”
My head shook, and I focused on getting the line just right, mumbling, “Best way to heal from something like this is just gettin’ up and moving. You sit still too long, and your muscles seize up.”
On a huff, she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re going to make it worse.”
“I’m not.”
Ocean eyes caught me up, her demeanor shifting like she was seeing the scars written on me anew.
This girl, nothing but a riptide.
Unexpected.
Everything I hadn’t anticipated.
Everything I shouldn’t want.
“And I’m guessing you know this from experience?”
Her eyes drifted over my shoulders and chest that were now concealed by a tee. But she’d seen it plain last night, all because I was a fool who couldn’t stop from exposing myself.
I’d wanted to take something good for a minute when I’d been sure I was going to succumb to the bad.
“Fighting is in my blood, Little Dove.” The admission barely made it into the air as I leaned down to guide the 2x4 through the table saw. The engine whirred and the blade spun, and the sound of the wood grinding in two didn’t stand the chance of blocking out the questions that flared from her.
The plank broke apart, and I let go of the button. The sawblade spun slower and slower, quieting to her soft intensity that was rippling between us like shockwaves.
“You’re the gentlest man I know, Milo.” There was a question behind it.
A scoff got free. “That’s bridled anger, Tessa. That’s me keeping who I am under lock and key.”
“Maybe they’re both part of who you are.”
I grunted. “You keep trying to see someone you want me to be.”
“Maybe I like everything I see.”
My gaze snapped up. Damn it, I never should have given in yesterday. Touched her. All but demanded for her to touch me.
Because that energy sparked in the air.
Shocking between the two of us.
Lust and greed and something far more dangerous than either of them.
“Think it best if we don’t go there,” I warned low.
Her eyes narrowed. “Sorry to break it to you, Milo, but I think we already did.”
I heaved out a sigh as I started to organize the pieces of wood I’d cut for the rest of the treehouse ceiling.
My side burned like a bitch, every inch of my body in the clutches of an unrelenting ache, insides spiking with sharp shocks of pain that sheared through me as I pushed through every movement.
I ignored it because I did know from experience.
Moving was the only way I was going to make it through the day.
How many matches had I been in that I’d been beaten to within an inch of my life, then had to jump right back into the ring the next night?
I didn’t get there from lying around moaning, that was for damned sure.
She kept watching me, waiting for a response, the weight of her stare ten-thousand pounds on my back.
“We shouldn’t have,” I finally rumbled.
“I think we’re of two differing opinions.”
Turning my back on her didn’t seem to work because her voice kept coming at me from behind.
“Because the way I see it, I think you really want me, and you’re just trying to pretend like you don’t. I mean, have you seen me?”