Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
In short order, she shared the hurt she’d felt while stepping into the church for help. Christians. My people. My people should’ve helped her.
“After I met this little girl, Cutie Pie, Rocket came. I’d never run before. He caught me in less than an hour. My stomach tightened. Without prenatal care, I didn’t know how many months I was. It-it was too soon. We-we delivered the baby, right there, on the couch.” Her voice broke, a hollow shell. “A dead baby.”
God, how do—
Jordyn caught my mouth with her own in a kiss that ignited enough passion to move like a radar-guided missile. Every part of my body came alive. She straddled me. I grabbed her face in my hands.
“Though I pray I don’t cross the line, I’m gonna kiss you until you forget every horrible detail from your past, Jordyn.” My declaration came out breathy.
My fingertips ran beneath her shirt, over her spine, and she pressed into me. As I gripped the back of her hair, elongating the kiss, a noise broke into our hot and heavy breathing.
DING.
DONG.
“Don’t get it.” Jordyn panted. “Please don’t get it.”
I planted tiny kisses on her jaw. “They’ll go away. If they don’t, I’ll persuade them.” Lord, how would I get up to confront someone for the interruption? Jordan had me stuck in this position. And I couldn’t help myself. Another mop of my mouth trailed down her neck.
Another ring of the doorbell.
I fell back against the headrest.
Jordyn panted in my lap. A smile on her face. “Okay. We just have to be really quiet. Then I’ll forget everything in my past. Everything from the last day back. I won’t even remember the horrible dream I had last night just—”
A click of the deadbolt stopped the words I wanted to hear from my only weakness. I stood up, Jordyn still clinging to me, until the last second when the front door opened.
“Jamie?”
A deep, primitive, frustrated roar rang through my brain, but I didn’t allow it to exit my mouth. Mam.
23
BIG BEAR
Jordyn
Days Free: 2
To escape the anguished aftermath of telling Jamie how long I’d cried after what happened to me and Rocket’s baby, my baby, I’d kissed him.
The gentle touch of his whisper-soft fingertips on my spine kindled a burning passion deep inside. A passion I never knew existed. One that came from consent. From someone not screwing around with my mind, dehumanizing me, or telling me that all I was good for—
No. I didn’t care. A giddy little cry came from my lips as Jamie’s hand gripped the back of my hair. This sort of domination was different. Not putting me down. Making me feel less than to lift himself up. No, every touch was firm, steady, and made me struggle for an inhale.
DING.
DONG.
My thoughts scattered, yet I couldn’t help but let out a breathless, giddy chuckle. “Don’t get it. Please don’t get it.”
“They’ll go away.” He laughed, one that ran deep from his strong abdomen pressed against me. “If they don’t, I’ll persuade them.”
Another ring of the doorbell and Jamie sat back. I cried inside. No. No. No. This was not happening! He was kissing me like he wanted … more.
Between moaning at the trail of kisses that scattered down my jaw, I added, “Okay. We just have to be really quiet. Then I’ll forget everything in my past.” What else could I forget? I’d forget my ABCs as long as this lasted forever. “Everything from the last day back. I won’t even remember the horrible dream I had last night just—”
The door opened, and I clung to him as he stood up. Maybe we could just disappear. I’d spent half of my childhood wishing I’d vanish. If they didn’t see us, we could continue this upstairs.
“Jamie?” called a feminine, Scottish voice.
I climbed down from the tree of a man before me as his body tensed in a way that didn’t match the tension woven through him a mere minute ago.
“Aye,” he grunted.
The front door opened to reveal a large woman with short, mostly silver hair. The wavy curls framed her ears. Made her appear more “I love fresh-baked cookies and binge-watching cartoons on Friday nights with my grans” instead of the mother of a Scottish Crime syndicate. While looks could be deceiving, I really wanted this. I wanted to be fooled by her and believe that she’d call me daughter. That I’d have a family.
Without a word, she stepped into the large cabin that resembled a French Chalet. Where she had her son in the width department, he had her in the height department. She wrapped her arms around him; his chin fit like perfection on top of her head.
I glanced away.
I’d never had a mother. Never thought much of her and skipped pages in books that mentioned mother figures. Not many action flicks had mothers, either. As they hugged, I remembered how Rocket cradled our baby in his hands. Even more pain than I thought imaginable poured from me in waves when I’d asked him to save her.