Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
“I love you,” she murmurs, only loud enough for me to hear as she squeezes her eyes shut and shudders.
Her pussy clenches, wetter as she rides it out, and I grip her waist with both hands, keeping her moving as I’m ready to come too.
I groan. “Oh, baby.” I bite my bottom lip, hearing laughter and voices growing closer. “I love….”
I love you too.
But I can’t say it. What if she loses me? It’ll be easier to hate me if I never said it.
“Fuck, I love how I can’t breathe if I’m more than an arm’s length away from you,” I gasp instead.
My orgasm rips through me, and I come, grappling her like my fucking life depends on it. I kiss her hard, crushing my lips to hers. “I love…” And I smile. “I love that I’m already hungry for you again.”
Her father and brothers and nephews could kill me, and I would still want her.
Devoid of reason. To hell with the rules.
I want her, and God help me when I can no longer hide it.
Quinn
I love how I can’t breathe if I’m more than an arm’s length away from you.
It was nice to hear last night.
And everything was so hot.
I loved that he desired me. That he saw me as a woman and liked what I did for his body.
But I’m ready to hear something different now.
I said it first, which was a mistake. He’s just going to think I’m naïve and inexperienced.
Whatever happens next, doesn’t he want me to know how he feels?
The empty bridge opens before me, and I cruise across the river on my bike. A quiet ride to work this morning sounded nice. And I wanted the extra time to clear my head. Lucas still slept when I left my parents’ earlier, and I’m glad I cleared away any evidence of us there together. Of course, they would’ve assumed we were there together as they’re still unaware of my new house purchase, but I didn’t want them arriving back home from their trip to discover we were sleeping together. I left no condom in the downstairs garbage after we got done on the couch, no trail of clothes to his guestroom, and turned back on the indoor and outdoor cameras as I left a couple of hours ago.
I’m surprised I haven’t gotten a call from Jax yet. With live feeds everywhere, there’s no way anyone who’s paying attention hasn’t noticed us together around town as much as we have been.
Cameras…
I stop pedaling. Jax might have footage of whoever attacked Lucas last night.
Someone attacked him. I didn’t need him to tell me that to notice the cuts and bruises.
Of course, he won’t talk to me about it. As if avoiding the truth makes him look any better in my eyes.
Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice the sound of the engine until it’s almost on me. Blinking, I swerve for the side of the bridge to let it pass, but when I look over my shoulder, there isn’t anything there.
Training my ears, I hear the car, but I can’t see it as the fog rolls in like a wave over the bridge. No headlights, no movement… I hop off my bike and look around, unable to even make out the banks of the river, and only one light from Weston. One among all the mills.
The car is gone, but I twist side to side, my skin crawling all the same. Visibility is scarce with the fog, it’s still dark, and I’m all alone.
The engine suddenly revs, and I jump, searching for the damn car on Weston’s side.
It’s so close. Where is it?
It fades away again, drifting off in one long, musical note.
Lightning flashes across the sky, and then a ring pierces my ear.
The hair on my arms shoots up straight. “Shit,” I grit out behind my teeth.
Digging it out of my pack, I swipe the screen.
“Where are you?” Lucas demands.
I try to calm my breathing. “I had to run back to my place. My work clothes were there.” I climb back on my seat. “I’m crossing the bridge back to the Falls now.”
“In the car?”
“On my bike.”
“Quinn.” He sounds scared. “I don’t want you out by yourself. A storm is coming.”
More thunder rolls overhead, but I know it’s not the rain he’s worried about.
“Just get to the bakery,” he tells me.
Fumbling in my backpack for some spare change, I throw several coins over the side. I haven’t been adhering to the tradition, and Winslet MacCreary may not be dead, but she could still be watching.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
He must hear my hard breathing, and I shiver at the dark road ahead that I can’t see.
“I don’t know.” I pedal fast, cool air sweeping over my legs. “There’s fog everywhere. I can’t see.”
I hear shuffling, keys jingling, doors slamming…