August by Samantha Wilde

Author:Samantha Wilde
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781990385179
Publisher: Samantha Keith
Published: 2024-07-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

August sat in the living room with the lights low. The reflection of the room shone in the large windows, and the inky blackness outside was peppered with small lights from buildings and cars.

After dinner, he’d swooped Gigi to bed. He hadn’t been able to wait another minute to get her naked and touch her. To kiss her body. To have her sing as he licked and toyed with her. Afterward, he’d sunk into her slick wetness and his brain had melted into nirvana.

Christ, everything about Gigi was perfect. Life with her was fucking perfect. Minus the fact that they were running for their lives and the cartel was trying to kill the woman he loved—

No. Don’t go there, you moron.

He couldn’t love Gigi. Well, sure, he could. There were a lot of things he could love about her. Her smile, her cooking, her laugh, the way she fit against his body like a perfectly carved sculpture God had designed only for him.

Sure. He could love Gigi. If he let himself. If he wasn’t careful. If . . . things were different. Right now, he needed to keep her safe and bury her ex-fiancé.

Once he did, she might not want anything to do with him. She might hate him for the animal he was. Might see him for the ruthless killer he could be when necessary.

And if he wasn’t guarded against the crushing blow of her abandonment, he’d fucking drown.

Sad. At some point in the last few days, he’d become a pathetic sap.

With the force of a tornado memories swept in. Memories of the unrelenting, humid jungle. Anxiety clenched the muscles in his neck as his body relived the severe dehydration that’d almost killed him. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, but the onslaught of insects buzzed in his ears, nipped at his flesh, waited to eat him alive.

Screams. Violent, terrified screams ripped through his head.

Rough hands dragged him through the thick foliage, taking him to what he’d assumed was his execution but was actually his salvation. A helicopter. The whomp, whomp, whomp of the blades was engraved in his psyche. Still rang through his dreams.

He hadn’t died that day, but the blood was still on his hands.

A shuddering gasp rushed from his chest, and he stood to pace the area rug. Dragging his hand through his hair he waited for the pounding of his heart to slow, for his brain to realize he wasn’t in the jungle. Wasn’t in survival mode.

He didn’t need to conjure the image of Gigi’s sweet smile—he had her in the flesh. Ready and waiting and his for the taking. And for the giving. Because he’d give more than he ever took from her. He’d be the anchor she’d been for him. He’d breathe life into her through her darkest moments. She’d never fully understand what she’d done for him. Would never fully understand that without those two weeks of heaven in his apartment, he’d have died in that jungle.

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