Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“I don’t care what you want right now. Right now, I’m keeping you alive whether you like it or not.” My voice comes out strained from the effort to maintain control.
She makes a sound that’s half sob, half laugh. “M-monster.”
“Yeah.” I tuck her head under my chin, one hand splayed across her back, trying to focus on what’s medically necessary rather than the feel of her soft skin under my palm. “The monster that saved your life. Again.”
We stay like that as her shivering gradually subsides. Minutes stretch into an hour, maybe more. The storm howls outside, but inside, there’s just the crackle of fire, our breathing, and the slow return of warmth. Underneath it all is the tension—sexual, undeniable, and wrong as hell, given the circumstances, but it’s there, nonetheless.
I can feel every breath she takes. Every subtle shift of her body. The way her skin goes from cold to cool to warm under my hands. The softness of her pressed against the hardness of me. It’s agony. Beautiful, terrible agony.
My cock hasn’t softened. If anything, as she warms up, as her body returns to life, the ache grows worse. I don’t move. Don’t act on it. Just hold her, torturing myself with the promise of what could be mine if circumstances were different. If she wanted this. If I hadn’t destroyed any chance of her coming to me willingly.
Eventually, she stops shaking, and her breathing evens out. She’s still weak, still exhausted, but no longer in immediate danger.
And she’s definitely aware of exactly what pressing her nearly naked body against mine has done to me.
“Why?” she asks suddenly, her voice small against my chest.
“Why is my dick so hard I can’t see straight?”
She huffs through her nose. Was that a laugh? “Why did you c-come after me? Why not just l-let me die?”
It’s a good question. One I’m not sure I have a good answer for, or at least not one I’m willing to say out loud.
“I didn’t go through all of this trouble to let you die in a snowstorm,” I tell her, keeping my response direct, even if it’s not the whole truth. “I know it’s difficult to accept, but death isn’t the answer.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, then replies, “I’ll n-never stop trying to escape.”
“I know.”
“I’ll never f-forgive you for this.”
“I know that too.”
Another pause. “And you’re still g-going to make me marry you?”
“Yes.”
She sags against me, the fight draining out of her body. Not surrender, not yet. But acceptance of the immediate reality. She’s alive because I saved her. She’s warm because I’m holding her, and she has nowhere to run.
“I hate you,” she whispers.
“So you’ve said a time or five.” I brush strands of her silky blond hair back from her face, feeling the warmth returning to her skin. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll marry me, anyway. Tomorrow we will go to your father. Get the license and make this official.”
“He won’t believe it. He knows I wouldn’t choose this.”
“He’ll believe what we make him believe.” I meet her gaze in the firelight. “I want you to tell him you love me. Tell him we’ve been seeing each other in secret for months. And you want this marriage.”
“I c-can’t—”
“You can’t or you won’t? Because there is a difference, and if you don’t, then I’m going to have to look like the monster you claim I am. I’ll have him out of that church and homeless within a week, and we both know that’s not what you want.”
Tears fill her eyes. “You’re c-cruel.”
“I’m practical.” I wipe away a tear with my thumb. “The sooner you accept it, the easier all of this will be.”
“It’ll n-never be easy.”
“Maybe not,” I agree. “But there’s a chance it might be, and I want to take the easiest road possible with you.”
She closes her eyes, fresh tears tracking down her cheeks. I hold her through it, letting her cry, letting her grieve the life she thought she’d have. The freedom she thought she’d keep.
When her tears finally stop, she’s limp in my arms and exhausted beyond measure. The near-death experience, combined with emotional devastation, has completely drained her.
“Sleep,” I tell her, adjusting the blankets around us. “We’ll deal with everything else tomorrow.”
“Can’t s-sleep here. With you.”
“You don’t have a choice. Moving you right now would be stupid. Your body needs to stay warm.”
“But—”
“Saint.” I catch her chin, making her look at me. “You ran into a blizzard to escape me and nearly died. I’m not letting you out of my sight for the rest of the night. So accept it. Close your eyes. Go to sleep.”
She stares at me for a long moment, war waging in her blue eyes, and finally she gives in to exhaustion and closes them. I don’t sleep, and couldn’t even if I tried. I’m too worked up, my thoughts racing. I stay awake, hours ticking by through the night, while I hold her close, keeping her warm and ensuring her breathing remains steady.