The Drift (Preacher Brothers, 3) by Snow Jenika

The Drift (Preacher Brothers, 3) by Snow Jenika

Author:Snow, Jenika [Snow, Jenika]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Jenika Snow
Published: 2020-07-10T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter Seventeen

Zoey

He’d left, gone to speak with Frankie, and I’d been a coward, darting into the bathroom when he stepped out, needing that one moment for myself, to clear my thoughts.

And here I was, ten minutes later, still in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror, because I wanted to do something very specific with Wilder, but was afraid of the fallout, of what he’d say and how he’d react.

Man up. Stop running. Always running.

I took a stuttering breath in and left the bathroom, opening the door and seeing Wilder standing just a few feet from me.

I took that moment to look at him, to really look at him. Wilder’s hair was dark and short, damp from his shower, slightly disheveled. His facial bone structure was masculine, like it had been chiseled out of stone. His nose was straight and strong, and his jaw was masculine and square. The days’-worth of scruff that covered his cheeks and chin had heat licking over me and settling right between my thighs.

This is the last thing I should be thinking about. Although I knew he was healing nicely, this just wasn’t right. It wasn’t his fault I’d been taken by his twin, but the truth of the matter was, I was still here, forced to be in Wilder’s room until he was completely healed. Why that mattered, I had no clue, but I also couldn’t lie and say I didn’t like being around him, forced to or not.

But we should’ve talked, right? We most definitely shouldn’t have sex.

But that’s what I want.

Feeling my body climb higher with an arousal I’d never felt before, my eyes dropped to his feet. He was barefoot, and even that part of his body was so damn attractive. I lifted my gaze over his faded jeans, ones that molded to his muscular thighs and looked well-worn. His chest was bare aside from the white bandage wrapped around his bullet wound. I knew he hated wearing the bandage because the wound was all but closed, but Kimber insisted he kept it on, and I knew he only did it to placate her.

But even still, even knowing the wound that lay under it had nearly taken his life, his muscles in his chest were so pronounced, so cut and raw, that it was impossible not to feel wholly feminine around him.

The tattoos he had weren’t grossly exaggerated, and he wasn’t covered in them like his other brothers, but the ones he did have only seemed to accentuate the power he wielded. I had a feeling, just by looking at Wilder, that the authority he emitted was natural to him, as natural as breathing.

And then I was staring at his hands, saw how big they were, how they’d dwarf mine. Even now, I could feel them in my hands, his fingers twined with mine as I held him.

God, the images I conjured of what he would do with those long fingers and at how much power he could exude made me blush intensely.



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