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What the fuck am I doing out here?

But then I look at Kiro, and I know what I’m doing here. This is the man who reached his hand out to me, who protected me from Donny. And our connection sizzles. It sizzled every time I walked into his room, and it sizzles now.

And I’m seeing him home. It’s just a longer trip than I thought.

He carries the canoe from one waterway to another like it weighs nothing. When I ask to stop, tired, he humors me. I eat a few energy bars. I’ll need to make the food stretch out a day or two longer than I’d originally thought.

I want to take pictures, but I decide to wait. Conserve my battery. We end up back in another stream at dusk. He pushes us off. So much water up here. The stars overhead are bright.

“Can’t we stop? I’m so sleepy.”

“Sleep.”

I resist at first, but finally I give in and curl up with my head against a pack, telling myself I’ll just close my eyes. I drift off to the soft sound of the paddle.

When I wake up, he’s carrying me in his arms.

“Kiro?” I whisper.

“You don’t have to whisper, Ann.” He lays me down on something soft. The sleeping bag. He zips me in and stretches out beside me.

A strange shriek echoes through the dark forest, sending a shiver down my spine. “What is that?”

“Predator and prey,” he rumbles. He draws a finger down my cheek. “You’re safe here. Nothing can get you here.”

“Is this your place? Are you home?”

“It’s an island. Sleep.”

I pull outfour slim packets of Starbucks instant coffee the next morning and set them on a log near the fire. Four slim packets from Starbucks. “I need to heat water. You’re lucky I brought extra of these. I’d be a monster without my coffee.”

“You need coffee every day?”

“Hell yeah. Don’t worry. I have four.”

He looks concerned.

“I’m a total addict. What can I say?”

“What happens when you don’t have your coffee?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“You would survive it, right?”

“No.”

He draws nearer and takes a strand of my hair. “Tell me what happens.” It’s kind of a command.

“Why?”

“I just need to know.”

I narrow my eyes. “Exactly how far is your place?”

He winds a curl around his rough, sinewy finger. “It’s far.”

“How far?”


Tags: Annika Martin Erotic