Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
"You being there wouldn't have saved them," Cam says, pulling up to a stoplight.
"I know, but had they not dropped me off at his house first, they wouldn't have been on that particular road." I turn to him and swallow hard. "For a long time, I thought it was my fault."
"Do you still?" he asks, watching me intently.
"No," I whisper. "But I did. Tommy will probably feel the same way. Part of him will always wonder if he could have saved his friend. Fake Ivy ruined more than just Rory's life when she told him to jump."
"Jesus," Cam says.
"Unless I find out who she is, she'll get away with it and no one will ever even know."
"I'm not going to let that happen." He pulls into the parking lot of the Marriott and quickly finds a spot. Killing the engine, he turns to me and places his hand on my cheek, forcing me to look at him again. "I'm not going to let you go down for a crime you didn't commit."
I stare at him for a long, silent moment, trying to understand why he cares so much about what happens to me. Part of me wants to believe it's just because that's the kind of cop he is, but the other part? Well, that part isn't so naïve. He isn't helping me simply because he's a good guy. It's not because he wants to sleep with me either. I think…I think he means it when he says he can't stop thinking about me. And that scares the shit out of me and doesn't scare me nearly enough.
"What do you want from me?" I ask him, my voice raw with emotion.
"You," he says simply, running his fingertips over my jaw. "I want you."
I swallow convulsively and nod, letting him know I want the same thing. And I do. I so do.
Please, don't let me break him, I pray.
The walk to his room is silent, filled with expectation. He keeps my hand wrapped in his, my body tucked against his side. We're the only two in the elevator on the way up. He doesn't make a move, instead standing beside me quietly, seemingly content.
My heart hammers, my pulse fluttering in my throat. Nervous energy fills me, making me fidget from foot to foot. There's so much I want to say to him, but I don't even know where to start.
When we reach his room, he lets me in first and then follows, latching the door behind him. I pace around, studying the room. It's a lot bigger than my motel room, and a lot nicer. The bed is massive and inviting, the comforter a dark gray that almost matches his eyes. A sofa sits in the far corner of the room, with a desk on the opposite wall. His laptop is plugged in on top, the screen black. The full-sized kitchen is narrow, but not cramped. An unopened case of water and a six pack of beer sit on top of the counter.
Cam's scent is all over the room. I close my eyes and breathe it in, letting his sensual smell work through my system. No one has ever smelled better than he does. His spicy, masculine scent is addictive, causing heat to unfurl low in my belly every time he's near me.
"Come here, kitten," he says, tilting his head to look at me when I turn back to face him.
I shake my head, too nervous to move.
Desire flares in his eyes again. He unlatches the holster from his hip and sets his gun on the counter before pacing toward me. I don't know why, but I back away. He doesn't stop advancing, not until my back hits the wall beside the bed and he's right in front of me, so close I can see the pulse thrumming in his throat.
"Told you not to run from a cop," he says with a little smirk, his gaze smoldering.
"I'm not," I protest.
He cocks a brow at me and runs a fingertip across my bottom lip. "You ran all the way to L.A. to hide from me."
"I―"
"What are you so afraid of?" he asks quietly, staring at me like he really wants to know…like I'm a mystery he wants to solve. He isn't asking me about the case or about going to jail, but about me and him, and why I ran all the way to Los Angeles to avoid him.
What am I afraid of?
"You," I mouth, unable to force sound with him standing so close we're breathing the same little sliver of air.
"Me?" He stills his hand against my cheek, no longer tracing his finger across my lip.
I nod.
"Why do I scare you?"
"I've been on my own for a long time." The truth pours from my lips too quickly to slow or halt. "And that's never bothered me before, but with you?" I shake my head, still off balanced by how much he makes me crave something else. Something I haven't had since I buried my mom and sister, and then my father. "You make me feel safe. I want to lean on you, Cam, and I shouldn't want that, not when you could lose everything because of me. I don't want to ruin your life."