Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
I traced another slow line up her back, ending at the curve of her shoulder, my fingertips barely skimming her skin. Her breath hitched again, but she didn’t wake.
She murmured something in her sleep, half a word I couldn’t catch, then nestled closer. It would’ve been easy to give in. To roll her beneath me and let instinct take over. Slide inside her tight channel and set a steady rhythm that would quickly explode into a frenzy of need until we both shattered in an attempt to reach heaven. And she was the only kind I’d ever know. If I showed up at the pearly gates, St. Peter would be too busy laughing to kick my ass all the way to hell.
But as much as I wanted to be inside her, I also wanted to keep her like this—to pull her back when the world tried to take her away. And for once, I didn’t fight it. I stayed still, the tension sitting heavy in my body, each heartbeat loud enough to drown out the sea.
I didn’t feel like a man who’d made a mistake. I felt like a man who’d finally stopped running from one.
And for now, her weight against me, the warmth of her skin, and the reminder that she was safe was enough.
Mine.
Still, the habit of vigilance crept back over me. Eventually, my senses started to tick back online, scanning for sounds beyond the walls—the shift of the wind, the call of a gull, and the faint hum of the generator outside. Nothing out of place. Not yet.
I drew in a slow breath, careful not to move too much, then eased my hand from her waist.
If I’d learned one thing in this life, it was that peace never lasted long.
And I needed to make damn sure it stayed hers for as long as I could give it.
I eased my hand off her waist and sat up slowly. The sheets slid along my legs, and for a ridiculous second, I let myself think this might be the kind of morning that existed outside of all the rules. Then pragmatism slotted back into place like a loaded chamber.
My legs swung out from under the blanket, my bare feet meeting the floor with a soft sound. I moved without hurry, but with the kind of alertness that had kept me alive long enough to earn my cut.
I padded out to the living room and sat on the couch, reaching for the laptop I’d left on the coffee table. When I opened it, I stared at the feeds of several security cameras.
Approach, dune line, porch sensor, and the single lane we’d used to get here. The feeds filled in, time stamps marching in the corner. Everything read green—no headlights crawling at odd hours and no heat signatures where they shouldn’t be. The sensor grid in the dunes chimed quiet and clean. Secure.
Still, I ran each feed again multiple times. My eyes moved with the efficiency of training—left to right, top to bottom—looking for the small things men with no patience for mistakes always missed. The monitors showed sand, scrub, and the slow bob of surf. Nothing out of place.
I let the breath out through my nose and shut the laptop, setting it aside again. Returning to the bedroom, I went to the nightstand where her phone lay face-up. Dammit. She hadn’t turned it off like I’d told her to. I unlocked the screen—having hacked her password when I cloned it—and thumbed to her messages.
There were dozens of them. They were stacked tight, timestamps bleeding into the small hours. Some were soft and insistent.
Ethan
We can fix this. Please don’t shut me out.
Ethan
You don’t have to do this alone.
They were bait, patient like the snake hunting her. Others were possessive lines masquerading as concern, thinly veiled threats that leaned into ownership.
Ethan
You don’t get to decide who cares for you.
Ethan
You won't choose him when you see who’s really looking out for you.
There were photos threaded in—Alanna leaving her apartment, eating at a restaurant, climbing onto the back of my bike, grainy shots through her living room window, and more. This wasn’t the pathetic creeping of a horny co-ed. This was true stalking now, but I could sense his fumbling. He clearly wasn't a mastermind, just a minion. His plans weren’t sophisticated.
My fingers tightened around the phone until the case creaked. The urge to tear the device in half was nearly as tempting as the thought of another cigarette. Instead, I deleted everything and blocked his number. Then I turned off the GPS, removed the SIM card, and tossed it back on the nightstand.
I called Jax, who had arrived home shortly after we secluded ourselves at the beach house. Kane had talked him into staying at the clubhouse and working the problem, rather than charging down here, finding out about Alanna and me, and kicking my ass.