Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
"I’m falling for you, Anniston," I say, voice rough with everything I’ve been holding back. "Hard. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but it did. And when this is over, I don’t want you to walk away. I want a future with you. A real one. Not just surviving this mess together. I want you in my life. Every day. I want to come home to you. I want to build something that’s ours."
She stares at me, eyes wide and shining in the moonlight. Then she unbuckles her seatbelt, climbs across the console, and straddles my lap. Her hands frame my face as she kisses me, deep and desperate and full of everything we haven’t said yet.
I kiss her back like she’s the only steady thing left in my world. My hands slide under her shirt, gripping her waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space between us. For a few perfect minutes the danger, the factory, my father's note, it all fades. There’s just her. Just us. Just this.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, she rests her forehead against mine.
"I want that too," she whispers. "All of it. With you."
I hold her tight, one hand buried in her hair, the other stroking her back. The road ahead is still dangerous. My family’s still broken. But for the first time since this nightmare started, I have something worth fighting for beyond just survival.
Her.
And I’m not letting her go.
EIGHTEEN
ANNISTON
We pull up to the cabin in the dead of night, the truck’s headlights cutting through the dark before Banks kills the engine. The silence that follows feels heavy, loaded with everything we just found at the factory. And everything we’ve just said to each other. My hands are still shaking a little as I unbuckle my seatbelt. Banks sits there for a second, staring straight ahead, the pocket knife and the note from his father resting on the console between us like a live wire.
I reach over and rest my hand on his thigh. “Hey. We’re here. We’re safe.”
He turns to me, those gray-blue eyes dark with exhaustion and something deeper. Something that looks a lot like the same storm I feel inside my own chest. Without another word he gets out, comes around to my side, and lifts me straight out of the seat. I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me inside, kicking the door shut behind us. The moment it clicks closed, his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is slow and sensual. And I kiss him back just as hard. Just as slow. I want to pour every bit of feelings I have for him into it. I thread my fingers through his hair and hold on as he walks us straight to the couch and lowers me onto it without ever breaking the kiss. His hands slide under my shirt, warm and calloused against my skin, and I arch into him, needing more.
“Anniston,” he murmurs against my lips. “I fucking need you.”
I shake my head, pulling him closer. “I need you too. More than you’ll ever know.”
He groans softly and kisses me harder, tongue stroking mine in long, sensual strokes that make heat pool low in my belly. His hands move slowly, reverently, like he doesn’t want to break me. He peels my shirt off and tosses it aside, then his mouth is on my breasts, licking and sucking gently until I’m moaning and writhing beneath him. He takes his time, lavishing attention on each nipple until they’re tight and aching.
“So fucking perfect,” he whispers, voice rough. “Every single part of you. I can’t get enough.”
I push at his shoulders until he sits back on the couch. I slide down between his knees, looking up at him as I unbuckle his belt and open his jeans. His eyes darken as he watches me. I free him, wrapping my hand around the thick length of his cock. So big. So massive. I love it. Every fucking inch of it. And trust me, there’s so many inches. Like we’re talking double digits. He’s already hard, hot and heavy in my palm. I lean forward and press a soft kiss to the tip before taking him into my mouth.
Banks lets out a low groan, his head falling back against the couch. “Fuck, Anniston…”
I take my time, savoring him. I lick him slowly from base to tip, then swirl my tongue around the head before sliding him deeper. His hand comes to rest gently in my hair, not pushing, just holding. I hollow my cheeks and suck, bobbing my head in a slow, steady rhythm while my hand strokes what I can’t fit in my mouth. The sounds he makes, low and ragged, send fresh heat rushing between my thighs.
“You feel so goddamn good,” he rasps. “Look at you. So perfect with your mouth on me. God, baby, I love watching you like this.”