Damaged King Read Online Terri E. Laine

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Novella Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
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As I walked into the living room, the soft sounds of her breathing filled the room. I can easily lie on the sofa, I told myself as I put two more logs on the fire.

She hadn’t moved as decision time hit me.

7

Jolie

A shock of cold air hitting my sock covered feet jolted me awake. I blinked several times to clear away the cobwebs in my vision or my brain as complete darkness consumed me. I shivered and noticed the fire flicker. I rolled to my left and stilled.

A massive man was draped over the sofa in the most uncomfortable position. A thin blanket covered his upper half, leaving the lower section, including an impressive bulge through the molded thermal fabric, on full display.

I glanced away and noticed how toasty I was despite my foot, which I’d pulled back under the safety of the pile of blankets on top of me. I didn’t remember so many layers of covers. Had he added some, leaving him with only a tiny blanket?

The idea of that kindness pricked the back of my eyes. I’d dealt with a lot of selfishness in my life that I couldn’t be unaffected by selflessness. Like the food he’d kept warm for me. I’d scarfed it down so fast, I’d been surprised that I hadn’t choked.

“Grant,” I said, my voice croaking on the word.

I had to say it a few times before he jerked upright. “What!” he said, looking around before he seemed to wake from whatever dream he was having. “Oh, the power’s out,” he said as if it was no big deal.

“That much I assumed. But the fire’s out too.”

He glanced over and got to his feet. The thermals clung to every muscle he had, which was a lot of definition on a man as fit as he was.

“I could have added a log,” I said in my defense. “But many home fires begin from fireplaces. I didn’t want to do anything wrong.”

I ended my babbling as he walked over to a wood pile that had been depleted.

“No worries, I’ve got it,” he said, without any snark.

He added the last two logs and rolled up some paper he grabbed from the kitchen. He lit it all and the fire grew, though nothing like the one that had greeted me when I first lay down. Then he went to settle himself back on the sofa, trying in vain to cover himself with the small blanket that looked toddler sized on him.

“We could share,” I said, feeling an internal heat brighten my cheeks because the words had come out in a squeak. He only stared at me, so I continued. “We’re adults. It’s freezing and no way am I going to take all your covers.” I shrugged. “Don’t they say sharing body heat is a good thing.”

Did I really just say that?

His face lit up with a triumphant grin and I closed my eyes, waiting for him to say something about body heat and other things. But he didn’t. Instead, I heard movement before I felt it.

The queen-sized air mattress he’d set up was a good size for me. Add a six-foot something mountain of a man and it was like we were sharing a twin.

Comically, we twisted and turned, trying to find a comfortable spot when the blankets and quilts covered us both. In the end, he caught my hips right after I’d given him my back. I stopped moving, not only because he’d apparently wanted me to, but also because I was shocked by his big hands on me.

“Stay still,” he said. The baritone in his voice was a command itself.

“I’m trying to get comfortable,” I protested.

“If you’d stop and not fight me, I can get us both there.”

I wanted to ignore how sexually charged I could take that statement as he closed the distance between us by pulling my back to meet his chest and then draping an arm over me.

I couldn’t breathe, let alone move. That sizable bulge of his was cradled against my bottom. I was reared speechless by the sizzle that zinged through me.

It had been months since I’d been this close to a man. The heartbreak of Cal was a bucket of cold water from wanting to date any man.

Yet, my skin tingled at every spot we were connected. Considering we were doing big spoon, little spoon, that was almost every part of the back of my body.

Grant was many things, a jerk-faced arrogant asshole to start, but he was also smoking hot. A face like his could melt the heart of any ice queen. But I also had to acknowledge a level of kindness most likely born out of manners he probably rarely used. But it was there.

“Sleep,” he said.

The warmth of his words tickled my neck and down my spine in the form of a shiver.


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