Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Tears appear in her eyes, beading and then sliding down her cheeks. She knows she shouldn’t be saying this, knows we shouldn’t be thinking about it, but we can’t stop. Even now. What does that say about us?
“We really should get going,” I tell her.
“Thank you for talking to me. I’m so sorry that happened. I’m so sorry the world is so messed up sometimes.”
I lean down and kiss her, breaking another rule. We never mean it when we say we will stay away from each other. We never believe, even for a second, that we can stop ourselves.
“Let’s go,” I tell her.
“What about your helmet?” she asks.
“I’ll have to go without. We can’t waste any more time.”
We head to the bike together. It’s odd, but I feel lighter somehow. Not just from the lack of a helmet and the wind rushing against my face as we ride. It’s like I’m leaving the past behind. Just for a little while, long enough to let me focus and forget about everything I’ve done wrong. Instead, I feel the road beneath me, the bike rumbling, my woman’s arms wrapped reassuringly around my waist.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kayla
“You need to eat,” he tells me as I remove my helmet. He must be able to see the guilty look on my face. Or maybe it’s not even a look thing. Perhaps he can sense the guilt radiating from me.
“Sure,” I mutter, “but Ryan—”
“He’s safe. He’s recovering. He’s not in serious danger.” Each word that comes from Kai gets gruffer and gruffer. When he looks at me, his intense eyes seem to burn. I wonder if he resents me for what we’ve done, the heat we’ve shared, now that Ryan is at risk.
“So you’re saying we shouldn’t hurry home?”
Kai shakes his head and then gestures toward the truck stop. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I’m saying that stopping for ten minutes won’t change anything.”
“You said we can’t waste time,” I remind him.
He walks right up to me. I can feel his heat. My body responds immediately. Guilty, charged energy pulses through me in waves. Even now, knowing that Ryan is in a hospital bed, knowing that the entire reason for this trip was a trick, I want my Kai. I want to drag my hands down his body, feel his strength, and pretend the rest of the world—oh, God, my own brother—doesn’t exist.
“Eating isn’t wasting time,” he grunts. “Taking ten minutes to get ready for more hard riding isn’t wasting time. You really think, if we didn’t need this stop, I wouldn’t keep pushing?”
I reach up and place my hand on his chest. His heart is pounding so hard. It’s like a series of bomb detonations, pulsing, roaring. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I know you’re right. I guess I feel like a bad sister lately.”
He laughs darkly. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”
I try to smile. It’s difficult, considering the current circumstances. “You feel like a bad sister, do you?”
Miraculously, he laughs. It brings my thoughts back to when this started before I ever would’ve dreamed he’d want anything to do with me, back when I was just the kid sister and nothing more. “What are you in the mood for?” he asks, walking toward the vending machine.
He rolls his arms and rotates his neck. It’s like he’s getting ready for a fight. There’s this aura radiating from him, too. Usually, I’d say that’s way too mystical to entertain. I can’t really see his aura, can I? But it feels like I can. Waves of violence are pulsing from him. It’s almost like he wants things to turn bloody.
He rests his arm against the wall at the vending machine, looking over the selections. Everything he does is so cool and calm, even with the violent intentions pulsing from him. Maybe this is what it’s like, learning to read another human being, the poetry of their personality.
“I’m getting jerky,” he says. “Several servings and one of those godforsaken energy drinks.” He pushes in some coins. “I feel like a kid ordering that. What do you want, Kay?”
He’s called me Kay so many times, yet every time he says Kay, it still sends a shiver of warm disbelief through me. “Some chips,” I tell him, “and a water’s fine. I need to use the restroom.”
I turn away, but then he grabs my hand. He squeezes hard so I can feel the fire scorching through him. Turning back, I find him staring down at me in that nothing-else-exists way—that nothing-else-matters way. He leans close. “Wait until I’m done here. I’ll come with you.”
“To the ladies’ room?”
He looks around at the empty truck stop. We’re in the middle of nowhere. We’re literally the only people here. A car drives past on the road, just one, but otherwise, it’s just us.
“Just wait,” he says gruffly.