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His kiss tastes of me. It’s strange.
“You’re delicious,” he growls against my skin. “Addictive.”
I don’t agree. I taste sweet and bitter, nothing terrible but nothing nice.
I have never experienced this in my life before. It feels like it’s been an eternity, and I almost expect the sun to be up. So, when he separates from me, I croak, “How long?”
I lift my head from the mattress to catch his eyes darting to the watch on his wrist, and he smiles up at me. “One hour and twenty-one minutes.”
My head falls back. “You are completely insane.”
“And you’re completely mine.”
He heads for the bathroom, but I’m asleep before I even hear the shower turn on.
When he comes to bed, he shakes me awake again. He’s got something in his hand. A frame.
“I went to your house today. I got this for you.”
A spike of adrenaline wakes me up, and I grab the frame as I sit.
My heart freefalls to my stomach. I can’t even breathe for a few seconds.
“Why?” I rasp.
I feel him shrug as my vision narrows on the picture.
“I was looking for your body wash, but I thought you’d like to have this.”
My hands feel sweaty around the frame.
It’s a simple family picture of me, Caden, and my dad. Caden is holding a toddler, and I’m holding another one. We can’t even see their faces properly. It was impossible to keep them still and get them to look at the camera. The picture isn’t very clear. It’s bad quality printed on normal paper that we framed rather than photo paper. It’s stupid, and I love it.
“Who are they?” He points at the photograph. At the two toddlers.
“My dad’s kids.”
That came out too fast, without a split second of hesitation.
I eye him next to me, waiting for his answer.
He blinks at the picture, perplexed.
Alarm bells ring in my head, my entire body on high alert.
He knows, he knows, he knows.
But then he nods, his voice as flat as ever. “I didn’t know you had other siblings.”
“If you can call them that.” I force my voice to stay steady.
I have people to protect, and they mean the world to me. I will not put them in danger because I failed to stay cool in a dangerous situation.
“He had them really late with a woman who didn’t give a shit about him. He saw them once a month, and I personally probably saw them, like, twice. One of those times we took a family picture and that’s it. Haven’t seen them since he died.”
I shrug, putting the picture on the bedside table that’s on my side of the bed.
“Thanks, though,” I murmur.
