Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Looking up in my rearview mirror, I see a truck on my ass. Instead of brake-checking them, I speed up. So do they.
“What the fuck?” I growl, not in the mood for some asshole and their road rage today.
Whoever it is, punches on the gas and speeds around me. They swerve over in front of me, forcing me to slam on the brake. “Fuck!” I hiss as everything in the passenger seat falls to the floorboard. I lay on the horn, and they speed off once again, taking a corner too fast.
I let off the brake and accelerate, going slower than I was as I get my breathing back to normal and rack my brain for anything that happened last night. I’m still drawing a blank. How do I not remember? There’s no way I told him I love him, right? Like that’s not even a word in my vocabulary, let alone something I would say to Colt.
I’m not one of those dumb girls who confuses sex with love. I don’t need to cuddle afterward. I don’t need a daily text, or a phone call. You can fuck me and go on your way, and I’m okay with that. So why do I feel like what he said had some kind of truth to it? Why is Colt the drug that I can’t seem to quit? Out of every relationship that I’ve failed, he’s the one guy I always go back to. I can dump a guy and not even think of him again. But Colt? I think about him all the time. Even when I’m with other guys.
Shifting in my leather seat, I hiss in a breath at the sting on my ass cheek. “You’re so dead.” I growl through gritted teeth. I will set his ass on fire this time.
“Think, Ray.” I slam my palm on the steering wheel. What the fuck happened? How did I even get home …
I open my heavy eyes, blinking a few times. I ache everywhere. I bring my shaking hands to my face, and they’re wet. “What …?” I clear my throat, my voice scratchy, and it hurts to swallow, making me flinch.
“You’re okay.” I hear that familiar voice in my ear from behind me.
I don’t even have the energy to turn around and look at him. Instead, I sink into what I realize is his bathtub, my back against his chest, and I close my eyes, enjoying the hot water burning my sensitive skin.
“You did so good tonight, princess,” he whispers in my ear. His lips trail down to kiss my neck, and my head falls to the side, silently begging him to kiss me there. “Fuck, you’re so perfect. Tell me again that you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.” I lick my numb lips. “I’m yours, Colt,” I repeat. “I’ve always been yours.” Isn’t that what this is about? He’s my addiction. My drug. I’ll never get enough of him. He knows it, and I know it. I’ve spent so much time on my knees for him that I don’t even care if I ever walk again.
“Goddamn right, beautiful.” He smiles against my neck. He removes his lips from my wet skin and replaces them with his hand. Giving me a little squeeze, he adds, “You’re mine now and forever.”
“Forever,” I agree.
No. Tears run down my face as that memory gets through the fog that was last night. It’s not true. I don’t believe it. My heart hammers in my chest, and I sniff. I haven’t fallen in love with him. It’s not supposed to happen this way. Not with him.
“You did so good tonight, princess.” He said that to me. What did I do? Did I beg him to love me?
Taking the corner, I see the truck again, but I’m too slow. They slam on their brakes, and I don’t have enough time to stop, so I rear-end them.
My entire body stiffens, knowing it’s coming as my seat belt tightens on my chest. My body goes forward at the impact while the airbag blows up in my face. I breathe in a cloud of dust, trying to get my vision to return. Everything is blurry, my ears ring, and my skin burns.
I hear the sound of metal being pried open and a hand grips my hair. I’m being yanked out, but my seat belt keeps me in the car.
“Fuck.” Someone hisses. Then they’re reaching across me and undoing it.
My head falls forward, and I feel something warm running down my face. “What …?”
“Shut the fuck up.” I’m yanked from my car, and I fall to my knees on the asphalt, unable to stand.
I catch sight of my shaking hands, and they’ve got cuts on them.
A hand grips my hair, pulling me to my feet, and I’m dragged away from my car and into a new one. My heavy eyes close while I try to breathe. My chest is tight, and I feel like something is sitting on it.