Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Serves you right, I think viciously.
“If you ever show up on any property I own again, I will hunt you down. Pressing charges will be the easy part,” Archer growls, pausing. “You’ll get them in spades, then I will turn your fucking skull into honeycomb. Understand me?”
This time, I catch the gist of what Holden says. “You’re threatening a senator’s son? Are you stupid?”
Archer snorts.
“I don’t give a shit what you are.” He hangs up, following through with the block setting in my contacts.
It’s a load off my mind, knowing Holden can’t contact me again unless he comes here.
And I don’t think he will.
Holden is many things, but brave is far from it.
Sure, he risked a little of his skin breaking and entering, but that was before he got caught. Before Archer knew it was him.
I don’t have time to think about anything else before he’s on me, his big hands on my face, pulling me into a kiss.
His mouth is so possessive, so demanding, and he doesn’t seem to notice there’s still snot on my face or that I’m hiccupping and crying.
But that’s fine by me.
What I really need now is a distraction, and Archer obliges.
When he’s kissing me, there’s no room to think about anything else. When he pulls me against his body, he squeezes out everything else, all the poison.
Holden, my dad, my stupid wedding, the bees.
Everything is smothered in him.
His smell, his taste, the way he holds the back of my neck. There’s this primal, jealous edge to the gesture, and I love it.
Call me sick.
I don’t care.
Even if he has no reason to be jealous. Only a total fool would choose Holden over him. It’s the difference between a little boy who’s full of himself and a man who drips life experience.
Archer’s thumbs swipe at my cheeks, wiping away the tears that keep falling as he holds me.
I can’t seem to stop them, but that’s okay.
With him, everything is fine, even when it’s not.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” I force out, and he shakes his head, wiping my face with his sleeve.
“Don’t apologize, Winnie.” His voice is hard and hoarse, and he kisses me again, one arm locked against my waist. “Don’t ever apologize for him.”
“O-okay.”
I could get used to this version of Archer.
He’s normally a man of few words, but right now, he’s giving me everything I could ever want to hear with his hands, his mouth, the way his breath catches when I grab his shirt and pull him closer.
We kiss harder, until I know my lips are swollen.
By the time we come back up for air, a haze of emotion and throbbing need, Holden and his destruction are already forgotten.
He’s the past.
Archer Rory is my present.
And if I don’t have my future figured out yet, he’s part of that too.
I don’t care if we’re destined for a storybook ending or a great big nothing.
With him in my life, holding me together, I’ll survive.
“Let’s go,” he whispers so gently, brushing my messy hair back from my face.
I gladly listen.
I expect him to take me home.
At first, we’re heading in that direction, but before we’re too far down the road, we turn off down another minor road surrounded by leafy trees. Archer’s hands are white-knuckled, tight on the wheel, and he doesn’t say much.
Every so often, though, he puts a hand on my leg.
It’s this silent, sweet assurance he’s still here.
Still thinking about me.
Still checking in.
It makes my chest feel like it’s too big for my body. Like if I’m not careful, I might just pop like a balloon from too much feeling.
The route he’s chosen leads deep into the forest, and I watch as the trees swallow the landscape.
It’s gorgeous, this path through dense greenery that feels like a well-kept secret, just as quiet and tucked away as Solitude itself.
Maybe that’s the point. Archer, he’s like me—he craves the silence, peace without worries and no one else around to tangle you up in their woes.
I’m not used to feeling this about another person.
Even Lyssie, as much as I love her, can get annoying sometimes. She’s a great friend, but she’s not a perfect puzzle piece who instantly snaps in to complete my life.
If I wasn’t scared he’d bolt like a frightened rabbit, I’d be tempted to tell him how much this means, how connected I feel.
Right now, we’re two halves of a whole. Whatever corny phrase doesn’t feel as devastating as ‘soulmate.’
But I am scared.
Scared he would dump me on the side of the road if I confessed my feelings and hightail it back to Kansas City, so I wait until he’s driven deeper into these woods.
Of course, he’s way too much of a gentleman to do that, but the jittery rabbit in my brain won’t let me ruin a good thing.
There’s a little parking space off the side of the road, a rest stop of sorts made from a mix of dried mud and gravel. He pulls over there.