Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
What if last night made him realize that this isn't what he wants? That being my daddy is too much work?
A protest bubbles up from the depths of my soul. He wouldn't do that. I know he wouldn't. Something had to have happened. And yet…there's no note, no nothing.
I wrap my arms around myself, seeking comfort where there's none to be found. I stumble toward the bedroom, hoping for some hint of where he went. But I find none. It's as untouched as the rest of the cabin, left exactly as it was this morning when I left.
Something is wrong. I know it is.
Maybe he's hurt or lost. Maybe there was an accident.
Or maybe he just left, that evil little voice whispers again.
I sink down onto the side of the bed, fighting tears as anxiety claws through me. I get lost in a whirlpool of doubt, drowning in it.
"Lena!" My name cracks through the room in a roar as the front door crashes open.
I jolt upright, hope and fear crashing like cymbals in my chest. "C-Carver?"
His heavy steps pound across the floor, vibrating the wood. I hold my breath, only to release it in a sob when he fills the doorway, his gunmetal gray eyes locking onto mine.
"Little angel," he rasps, the words rough and gravelly, like a prayer ripped from deep within his chest.
I don't even make it a single step before he's across the room, sinking to knees at my feet like a giant humbled. He reaches for me, his strength restrained and his hands gentle as they latch around my waist.
"Carver!" I sob, my knees buckling as I collapse into him. "You're here!"
"Shh, little girl," he murmurs, dragging me down into his embrace. His arms are steel bands, his hold unyielding.
"I-I t-thought you left me." The words tumble from my lips, raw and painful, as I wipe tears.
"Left you?" His voice is a rumble of disbelief. "I've been scouring this fucking mountain looking for you." He cradles my face in his hands, pressing his forehead to mine. "You think I could ever leave you, little girl?"
"I-I didn't know," I whisper. "You were gone when I got up. And you weren't here when I got back."
"I was hanging barbed wire this morning, pretty baby," he growls, holding my gaze captive. "I thought I'd make it back before you woke up. But if you don't know that I breathe for you, I'm doing my job wrong, Lena." He chokes on a pained groan. "I've fucked up as your Daddy, little girl."
My heart clenches at his words. "Carver, how could you think that?"
Memories of last night flash in my mind—raw, intense, everything I never knew I needed until he gave it to me. How could he ever think that he's not the Daddy of my dreams?
"What we did last night…" His eyes darken, and he swallows hard, his expression rife with guilt. "Christ, little angel. You needed soft and sweet. I should have given you that. Instead, I—"
I place a hand over his lips, silencing him. The rough stubble on his face prickles against my skin. "I needed my daddy," I whisper. "I needed exactly what you gave me, Carver. You think I'm afraid of what we are together, but you know what? You're the one thing in this world that doesn't scare me. You're the only thing I've ever been this sure of before."
He stares at me like I'm his salvation, so much intensity in his gaze it pierces right through me, shaking free the truth.
"I love you," I murmur, the words wrapped in sheer devotion as they spill from my lips. "I love what we did last night. I love everything about the way we are. I love you. You're the best part of my life."
His growl bounces off the ceiling before his lips come down on mine, his kiss wild and reverent, full of devotion. He steals my breath and my soul before he pulls back, breathing hard.
He holds my gaze as he fishes in his pocket for a moment and then pulls his hand out, a simple, elegant ring nestled in his palm.
"Carver," I gasp, staring at it in awe.
"Got this for you on my way back to the cabin today," he says. "For days, I haven't been able to stop thinking about how that finger is bare when it shouldn't be, when it should have my ring on it," he rasps. "When you weren't here this morning, I nearly had a fucking heart attack, thinking I'd never get to see you wearing nothing but it and a smile."
"I didn't leave you, Carver," I promise. "My grandfather…"
"I know, little angel." His thumb caresses my ring finger, as if he's just waiting for me to let him put his ring there. "I talked to your cousin."
"You talked to Dalton?" I squeak, my eyes nearly popping out of my head.