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)
This could be my only chance of freedom. I can’t give this up because of my libido. I worked too hard for too long to watch all my dreams circle the drain.
I don’t know if my pleading eyes get me over the line or the weakening of the helicopter blades above our head. Whatever it is, the effects are devastating. JR’s ploy to hide me from the people endeavoring to save me worked. The helicopter is retreating, and the knowledge makes me extremely angry.
“Why did you do that?” I whack into him like my body no longer cares that he’s pinning me to a snowy ground with the very thing it was mesmerized with only minutes ago. “They could have been looking for me. They might have been my only chance of getting out of these woods alive!”
His angry roar freezes me. I can see the denial in his eyes, smell the anger seeping from his skin, and the pungent aroma intensifies as he plucks me from the ground, tosses me over his shoulder, then storms back into the cabin.
When he dumps me onto the bed, his eyes stray to the vine curled around the bed knob for the quickest second. His contemplation on whether to restrain me or not barely lasts five seconds, but it’s long enough to warn me that I’m pushing the perimeters of his understanding.
After glaring at me like I’ve lost the privilege to watch him please himself, he storms to the closet to get dressed. It’s a fast, angry procedure that ends with him removing my sleet sodden shirt and replacing it with a dry one.
I won’t lie, his eyes’ refusal to budge from my face hurts more than it should. I like the way he looked at me when stroking his cock. It was a wanton stare instead of one pronged with disrespect.
“I don’t believe the spikes were for me,” I mutter, needing to say something to lessen his anger. “Cedric is an asshole, and his family don’t have the best morals, but that doesn’t make them murderers.” When he snatches up the vine, even more angered by my so-called defense of the Lancasters, I snatch my hand away before pushing back from him with a grunt. “No. I’m not letting you do this. I know you can communicate with me. You just choose not to. Well, guess what? You don’t get to be angry at someone for not understanding you when you won’t give them a chance!”
I slap his hands away when he careens them toward my face. I’m scared as hell, but since my anger is ten times worse, I refuse to let my fear of being suffocated to death paralyze me this time around. I deserve answers, and since he is the only one who can give them to me, I’ll fight him for them.
“Tell me what they did? Tell me why you hate them so much? Then perhaps if I know why you’re so gung-ho to keep me away from them, I won’t fight you at every turn.”
With his hand weaved through my hair to force me to hold his gaze and his eyes boring into mine, he exposes every sordid detail. He doesn’t use words to share his secrets, though. He doesn’t need to. The hurt in his eyes I was mistaking for anger is extremely telling, not to mention the slash marks on his wrists no amount of callouses could hide.
The Lancasters made him want to give up, but for some reason, he held on, and I can’t help but feel like that reason was me.
Chapter Thirteen
“Can I help?”
Although JR’s back is facing me, I wait for his eyes to fleetingly lock with mine in the reflection of the steel splash back in the kitchen before asking my question. It’s a similar size and cut as the mirror in the bathroom but steamier since JR has been preparing dinner for the past hour.
What started as an awe-inspiring day soon turned into a nightmare. JR hasn’t spoken to me all day. Although that isn’t unusual for him, he hasn’t grunted at me either. He’s avoiding me, and for some inane reason, it hurts more than Cedric’s betrayal.
“I don’t know how to prepare…” I swallow before forcing out my next two words, “… deer meat, but I can shell peas. It was my job anytime we had a family function during my childhood.”
I wait and wait and wait for JR to answer me, and just when I think he never will, he removes the bowl of peas from the cutting board he’s preparing fresh meat on and places them on the table in front of me.
“Thank you.” Since he’s facing me, I sign my praise as well as speak it.
His grunt is brisk, but it sours my heart rate to a never-before reached level. There’s no doubt his shell is as hard as his exterior, but the more I chip at it, the more fascinating he becomes. He’s reserved and aloof but still compassionate and caring. There are so many layers to him, and it will take more than one snowstorm to work them all out.