Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
“You’ve been alone with your peace and quiet for far too fuckin’ long, Serelda. Get your pretty ass out here. It’s time for bed. I’ve been chasin’ you all fuckin’ day, and I ain’t goin’ to sleep until you’re out here with me.”
“Stubborn-ass man,” I grumbled. I knew he’d keep at it until that five minutes was up. Then he’d probably break the door down. Given I had no idea if anyone had followed us or not, I didn’t want to draw attention to him by having the police called if someone thought there was a fight going on.
I turned off the water and snagged a towel. My skin was pruned from the hot water, but after my cry, I felt much better. I thought I could make it through this. Tomorrow, he’d take me back to the Tzars, and I’d call Rycks to come get me in Indiana. Brick might win this battle, but I would win the war.
After dressing, I grabbed a clean towel to wrap my hair in. I opened the door to find Brick standing on the other side. I looked up at him, and my heart stuttered. The man was insufferably gorgeous. At least, he was to me.
His hair was shaved on the sides, but long on top, making for a shaggy mess I longed to run my fingers through. His beard was white at the chin and temples, with more white sprinkled liberally through the rest of the dark mass. He was tall -- well over six feet -- with wide, thick shoulders and a muscled chest, all of which strained the T-shirt he wore. Brawny forearms were covered with tattoos, most of which looked like prison tattoos. I seemed to vaguely remember someone saying he’d done some time, but I hadn’t wanted to pry.
“Feel better?” His voice was rumbly and deep. It always soothed me when I woke up from a nightmare. Now, it made a fresh wave of tears try to overtake me. I fought them back by sheer force of will, because I absolutely would not let this man see me cry. Not over him.
“Yes.” I pushed past him and went to my bag, retrieving my hairbrush. More than once, Brick had brushed the tangles from my hair. Usually after I’d had to take a shower to wash off the sweat after a nightmare or a panic attack. Why had the man taken such good care of me when he wasn’t interested in me? I mean, I got why he didn’t want me sexually. What man would want to look at all these stupid scars on a regular basis? But why had he acted like he cared so much?
“Here.” He reached out and plucked the brush from my hand. “Sit on the bed. I’ll brush your hair for you.”
“I can do it myself.” I tried to take back the brush, but he raised an eyebrow and held it out of reach.
“I know you can, but you’re going to let me. Now. On the bed, please.”
I huffed and plopped down on the bed in a disgruntled heap, arms crossed over my breasts. I heard Brick sigh behind me. He moved so that he sat leaning against the headboard with me between his legs. We’d sat like this often while he did this exact same thing. Then he moved the brush to the top of my head and stroked downward in careful, gentle slides.
Moisture sprang to my eyes. This was the one gesture Brick made that even Winter had never done for me. As tears slid down my face in silent tracks, I remembered the first night we’d done this. I’d had a breakdown after a flashback, and Brick comforted me exactly like this. Since that night, this was a ritual he’d insisted on.
Without so much as snagging a single hair enough to cause pain, he would detangle my hair and brush the long, thick mass until it was dry. It sometimes took as much as an hour. Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we sat in silence. Always it soothed me when nothing else could. But only with Brick.
That was the problem. Brick was mine in every way but the one that mattered. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be ready for that, or if he was even willing to wait, if he’d wanted me at all. Hell, the man saw me as nothing more than a woman to be coddled but pitied. No man would want a woman like that for his own. Especially not a man as strong as Brick. He’d need a woman equal in strength at his side. One who could help him in his club. Not break down in tears after a stupid nightmare. So the reality was, I was his, but he wasn’t mine. It felt like I had a hopeless crush on Brick. One he had no way of returning, because I could never be what he needed.