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So, that’s what he was drawing in the gazebo.
I’m still unsettled by our conversation from earlier, but this feels like an apology of sorts.
My chest tightens at the gesture, and tears prick at my eyes.
He’s incredibly talented, and I’m shocked that he would want to draw me.
He barely knows you.
I need to be careful around all three of them.
They’re already tearing at my heart and making me ache for things that I’ll never have.
Placing the drawing on the nightstand, I head into the bathroom to wash up for the night, my heart beating rapidly in my chest.
7
JAMES
I’ve never masteredthe skill of self-control.
It’s something I pride myself on now, even if Beau and Grey look at me with unease when I chuckle to myself, or I give what Beau calls the ‘crazy smile.’
The only thing that keeps me sane is my sketchbook, where I can channel whatever neurotic and red-hot energy fuels my veins.
I shouldn’t have stayed outside her room, like a goddamn pervert.
I already tortured her enough by playing mind games with her.
But like I said—self-control: not my strong suit.
I should receive a fucking award though, for not barging in the moment I heard her touching herself.
Her little gasps, her quiet, breathy moans made my dick twitch, and if Wilson hadn’t rushed down the hallway, his big cat eyes judging me, I would have jerked off right there.
I came to her room to give her the drawing—I knew I made an ass of myself earlier, but she doesn’t understand how deep my obsession with her goes. Or the depth of emotions that rage through me every time I see her beautiful face.
The sketch was a small apology.
I’m not sorry for what I said, though.
If I ever see her ex-boyfriend, I’ll tear him limb from limb, slowly.
If she cries for him, then I’ll just kill him more slowly.
He’s not worth her tears.
No one is worth her tears but me, Beau, and Grey.
But she doesn’t know that yet.
Which is fuckingfrustrating.
Of course, she warmed up to Beau immediately. He has a welcoming, comforting personality, unlike Grey and me.
Grey is emotionally constipated, while I’m…tooemotional.
Which is what leads me downstairs to a distressed Charlotte and tense Grey, my foster brother narrowing his eyes at Charlotte. Beau stands next to them, his face wary.
