Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
My heart stutters as I place a hand on his arm, feeling how rigid it is. "I'm sorry," I whisper, guilt rushing through me. "I didn't know. I shouldn't have teased you about it."
He looks at me—really looks. "I'm not mad, beautiful. And you're right, the house is ridiculous. But Hattie felt safe here, and we made a lot of good memories, so I've just…kept it." He shrugs like it's not a big deal, but it is. Most eighteen-year-olds wouldn't have had the foresight to choose a home with their little sister's safety and comfort in mind. He did.
That's just who he is. I think it's who he's always been. And it breaks my heart a little bit to know that he's the man he is because of everything he and his siblings went through with their own mother. At least my crap came at the hands of someone not meant to protect me. Theirs came from the woman who birthed them, the one they never should have needed protection from.
Sometimes, the world is a fucked-up, awful place. People like Briggs make it better.
"You're pretty amazing, you know that?" I murmur, staring at him in awe. "You just…protect everyone around you. You never let anything break you. You just keep going, keep fighting, keep being this force for good."
"Jesus," he mutters, startling slightly.
"I'm serious, Briggs. You never let it harden you or make you bitter. You just keep being you. You know how rare that is?" I ask, staring at him. God knows, I didn't do that. I hid for a year. And then, even when I started finding some new normal, it was different. I didn't date. I didn't trust. I looked at everyone sideways, just waiting for the next shoe to drop, waiting to be the next bet. I was turned into a game, and it made me fearful. He was raised by a literal fucking monster, and it just made him…good.
He is so fucking good.
"You're one of the best men I—"
He's on me before I even finish the sentence, dragging me into his arms. I gasp, and then squeal when the world turns upside down, my hair falling into my eyes.
"Put me down!" I cry.
"No," he growls, his steps loud on the tile as he storms inside, heading straight for the stairs. I'm dizzy, gasping and clinging to him as he takes them two at a time, one hand planted on my ass to keep me still, the other on the railing to keep us steady.
Every part of the house I see is upside down, just blurry splotches of color and shape, and then I'm on my back, sinking into his bed. The room is shadowed, the only light coming from a lamp on the bedside table. Even that is blotted out when he crawls over me, caging me in.
"You make it so fucking hard to behave, sweetness," he growls, his fists planted on either side of my head, his expression feral and beautiful at once. "You talk about me like I'm some big deal, and I just want to fuck you to pieces so you keep thinking that."
"Do it," I whisper, arching up until my breasts press against his chest. "I'm right here, Briggs. I'm not going anywhere."
I see the war in his eyes, the desire to give in and take what he wants pitted against his need to do this the way he thinks it should go, all slow and careful. But I don't need that, not from him. Not anymore. I just need him.
I hook a leg around his hip and wrap my arms around his neck, anchoring myself to his body. My lips land against the side of his throat. "I trust you," I breathe against his skin. "Only you."
He groans, the sound vibrating through me, and then he flips us so I'm in his lap, my legs around his waist. One hand delves into my hair, craning my head back.
His lips against mine are heaven. So is the way his other hand slides down my body, slipping beneath the hem of my shirt. His bare skin against mine sends electric currents through my body.
I moan into his mouth, arching against him.
"Can I take this off?" he asks against my lips.
I don't answer—at least not with words. Instead, I break the kiss, leaning back to pull it off over my head. His eyes immediately fall to my chest, darkening. And God, I love the way he stares. I love the way a curse trembles on his lips. I love the way he reaches out, oh so slowly, tracing one fingertip down the center of my chest.
"Briggs," I moan, my head falling back.
"You're so fucking beautiful, Tia," he says, his voice gritty. "Do you know that, sweetness? Do you have any idea what you do to me?"