Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“You’re up,” a deep masculine voice startled me.
How long had he been there?
I didn’t say a word or make a sound, I hadn’t even moved. I couldn’t fathom how he knew I was awake. I barely realized I was awake. My eyes fluttered shut again.
Why was I so damn tired?
Before I could finish that thought, the night’s disturbing events came crashing down on me. What was supposed to be one of the most memorable nights of my life, turned into one of the most traumatic encounters. Adding to the endless pile of bullshit gone wrong in my life.
I tried to sit up, but my body refused to cooperate. I sank back down, whimpering in pain, unable to move from the place I laid. Before I could even blink, I felt a strong, solid grip grab my arm, helping me sit up. I hadn’t even heard him move, it was like he floated through air or something. His unexpected touch made me flinch. I always dreaded the feel of people touching me, but at this moment it seemed even worse.
He didn’t call me out on it, but he also didn’t remove his hands. Instead, he propped me up against the headboard. The mixture of his masculine scent and musky cologne surrounded me, penetrating my pores. Consuming me as he hovered above my battered frame. Resting my head back, I took a deep, painful breath, inhaling the smell that haunted me for years. Martinez. It made me feel dizzy, but content simultaneously. I eased into his embrace, ignoring the sharp pain that accompanied my movement. His presence brought a sense of calm and security over me. No one has ever had that effect on me before. My body in sync with my emotions melted into his touch even more.
He suddenly tensed for a split second, surprised by the unexpected change in my composure.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered in a tone I didn’t recognize, making me think I had an effect on him too.
I was about to ask why, when his hands vanished. All I heard was the sound of a light switch, clicking over on the nightstand. The light immediately blinded me, illuminating the bedroom. Emitting a sharp pain in my head that radiated in the back of my eyes. I suddenly understood why he told me to shut my eyes. I blinked away the haze and discomfort, finding him sitting in the armchair a few feet away. He just sat there like he never moved at all.
Did I just imagine him so close to me?
I watched him looking at me the same way he always had. It was like no time had passed between us. He was sitting back in the armchair with one leg placed over his knee, and his fingers brushing across his lips. He looked exactly the same, as if he hadn’t aged a day in the last five years. Except now he looked tired, exhausted even. Looking like he hadn’t slept in days. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was from staying with me, watching over me, guarding me…
Or if it was just because of the life he led.
I chose to believe the first one.
His black hair had fallen around his face, framing it perfectly like I once imagined it would. I instantly pictured him running his hands through it all night, restless, worried, waiting for me to wake up. He was as handsome as fucking ever. Better than I remembered him even.
He was sporting more facial hair than the last time I saw him, making him appear more distinguished, rugged, and dangerous. Not that he needed any help accomplishing the last one. His bright green eyes looked serene, but still void of any emotion. They were empty, no feeling pouring out of them whatsoever. His expression was vacant, and unforgiving. I never wanted to know what he was thinking more than I did in that second. The man was a blank canvas as always, so calm and collected, so naturally in tune with his surroundings.
So. Fucking. Him.
He wore black slacks with a black button down shirt. The first few buttons unfastened, showing off his big, muscular chest and what appeared to be a silver chain hanging around his neck. It looked like he was trying to hide it under his collared shirt, making it nearly impossible to see what it was. I found myself desperately wanting to know. My eyes instinctively wandered down to his arm, admiring how tan his skin was. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing a black beaded bracelet around his right wrist.
Another piece to this man’s puzzle.
My heart pounded against my chest, my mind reeling with thoughts of why I was there, and what he was going to do with me.
He was one of the good guys, right?
I wanted to look around the room, but I couldn’t will myself to look away from him. Our gazes locked, emotions running wild. Neither one of us wanting to break the intense connection we shared. Every last fiber of my being screamed for me to ask him what I wanted to know. I knew I wouldn’t get any answers, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to ask.