Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Perhaps I died in the wreckage, and they’re both a figment of my imagination? It would make sense as to why the widening of his eyes when I yank off my engagement ring makes it seem as if I know him when I don’t. His eyes, when not sheltered by his hair, are oh so familiar, yet still very foreign.
Things become even murkier when not even unvented alcohol can hinder my smarts. “Alcohol is great for killing bacteria, but a good old rinse of soap and water is actually the preferred method of wound care. Alcohol burns, which increases the risk of scarring and slows the healing process.” When JR yanks back the bottle he was about to pour over my wound, then cocks a brow, I stammer out, “Rarely anything you watch in movies or read in books is factual.” I nudge my head to the bottle that should be emptier than it is with how heavy my head feels. “I’d get more benefit drinking what’s left in that bottle than dousing my wound with it.”
With a grunt like he instantly believes me, JR hands the bottle back to me, then twists around to face the sink. Over the rim of the homemade brew attached to my lips, I watch him fill a wooden bowl with water before he drops a cloth into the suds-free bowl.
After returning my foot to his thigh, he squeezes the square of flannel in his hand before guiding the flow of water dribbling out of it onto the wound he just stitched back together.
It’s the simplest of tasks, yet so fascinating to watch. I’m usually the caregiver. I am rarely on the receiving end of the treatment. Furthermore, for the man the size of a giant, I’m shocked he knows how to be so gentle.
Once he has the wound washed with warm water, JR lifts his eyes to mine. He grunts again, but instead of me having no clue what he’s trying to say, I read the words he can’t speak from his eyes.
“Yes,” I reply, faintly bobbing my head. “That’s good. You did great.”
My praise shifts the tension between us. Instead of it being crippled with unease, it is brimming with sexual friction. Butterflies come alive in my stomach when JR’s focus shifts from my foot to my knee. He uses the cotton swatch to clear away the smears of mud that flicked up during our trek through the woods.
Although his touch is as mellow as a snowflake falling on my nose, it’s catastrophic to my insides. I’m burning up everywhere, and it has nothing to do with how close to the fire we’re sitting.
JR’s fingers are so long, even with his hand cupping my knee to ensure he doesn’t miss a smear of mud, his fingertips skim the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh. The callouses on his fingers have me wondering what a beard as thick as his would feel like while gracing the same area. Would it feel prickly like a five o-clock shadow or as soft as a cashmere scarf?
I bet with the right angle, you could experience both sensations at the same time, and the knowledge has my thighs pressing together with so much urgency, JR’s eyes lift to mine a mere second after I’ve removed the lust from my eyes.
He watches my throat work through two hard swallows before he creeps his hand under my shirt with a suppleness a man his size shouldn’t have.
More than alcohol hinders my senses when he brushes the back of his hand down my panties. I shouldn’t be wet, but I am. I can’t recall the last time someone looked at me the way JR is peering at me now. I feel wanted—very much so—and the desperateness it instigates is undeniable in my low tone when I let my libido speak first for a change.
“Please touch me.”
His growl almost sets me off. It’s low, deep, and dangerous. It exposes his restraint is wavering as much as mine. With him having far less to lose than me, he responds to the tension thickening the air in the most brilliant way.
He pulls my panties to the side, locks his eyes with mine, then slowly inserts a finger inside me. The bolt of electricity his simple touch darts through my body is embarrassing. I nearly come undone with only one thrust, and the realization has me reaching for the bottle of alcohol he dumped next to my thigh to chug down a generous gulp.
When JR mistakes my wish for our exchange not to be over before it begins as disgust, he yanks his finger out of my vagina, pushes back in his chair with so much force it smacks into the kitchen counter, transfers my sorry ass from the dining room table to the bed, then hightails it to the bathroom.