Page 86 of Tormented
TWENTY-FIVE
Abbey
Why is it taking him so long? And why is it so fucking dark in this parking lot? One light? I mean, come on. How’s a girl supposed to feel safe around here?
My heart physically hurts, it’s beating so damn hard against my ribs. Normally the dark doesn’t bother me too much anymore, but shit, after the headfuck Sawyer’s given me these last two days, I’m ruined.
Fucking wildlife. Whatever the hell is clanging around in the rubbish needs a bullet. As does the flickering light at the end of the porch. Could this get any more horror movie clichéd?
I wipe my free palm over the leg of my cut-offs, gripping the bag with my change of clothes tighter in the other. It’s a roadside inn, Abbey. Look at that car over there. A family would own that, a nice family. Or a serial killer who needs room for all the bodies he transports to hide in the woods.
Get it together. Breathe. In, and out. There you go . . . .
“You okay?”
I snap my eyes open and find Sawyer standing before me, the single light near us directly behind him so I can’t see his face.
“We got a room?”
“Eager, huh?” His tone is teasing, so I’m going to guess he’s smiling too.
“Tired, is all.”
He walks toward a room two doors from where we parked and sticks the key card in the lock. “Explains why you’re shakin’ like a leaf then, huh?”
How did he . . .?
“This is us.” He pushes the door wide, feeling around on the wall until the room is flooded in light.
I dash inside and hot step across to the far side of the room, placing the bed between the door and myself. Sawyer watches me with a frown, backs out the door, makes a show of looking both ways along the porch, and then finally comes back inside, closing the door behind him with a shrug.
“I start to imagine things when I’m tired,” I lie. “Sort of like sleep hallucination or something.”
“Looked to me like the hounds of hell were on your ass when you shot in here.”
“I’m fine, really.”
“Whatever you say, Abbey-girl.” He proceeds to strip off, laying his cut over the chair and then pulling his T-shirt off in that one-handed sexy-as-fuck way only men can. “Feel free to get in that shower if you want it.” He drops his shirt to the floor and runs his thumb across his bottom lip. “I’ll give you a five-minute head start.”
I didn’t pack the right equipment for the kind of shower I’m going to need with the way he’s currently looking at me. Give me strength. Plastering a forced smile on my lips, I back toward the bathroom door and sidestep inside. He chuckles as I slam it behind me and sag against the panel.
My heart races, my chest tight, and my stomach churning in knots of worry. I just need a moment. Just a few minutes to settle this unjustified panic and get my ducks in a row.
A deep, masculine moan filters through the thin walls, followed by the complaint of the bed as he presumably drops his massive frame onto it.
Damn it all. Why does he have to be so goddamn beautiful? I’m not asking for much: a jagged scar here, a lazy eye there, and maybe a soft jaw and an overbite to round things off. But nooo, Sawyer has to be the most gorgeous mental case on the fucking earth.
And he’s there.
On the other side of the door.
Making my resolve to be bold, brave, and not reliant on anybody but myself to make me happy, weaken.
Years, I’ve been working on improving, building the right mind-set, and then one week in Lincoln with what can only be the offspring of an angel and the devil himself, and he reduced me to a withering mess. I missed him more than I’d like to admit while he was in LA, and I thought about him more than even he’d care to know. And as much as I tried to talk myself into being strong, to not letting him get to me this time around, all it took was a day.
One damn day.
Twenty-four hours to fall hopelessly in love with all his broken parts.