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It’s quiet. Then she says, “Dad told me to take this year to decide what I wanted to do.” She runs her finger down my chest. “I was meant to go to university next year, and be…something. But we don’t have the money now. Maybe I can get a part-time job to pay for classes. I’ve never had one before, but I reckon I could work in retail, sell clothes, because I think I’d like to study. Not at university. Maybe get a trade. Maybe become a photographer.” The intensity in her voice is pitched with optimism, throwing her pulse up her throat with the prospect of this possibility. “What do you think?”
My head feels heavy, sluggish. I try to stay awake for her, but I’m wiped out from being inside her. I yawn. “What you gonna take pictures of then, Baby?”
“The world,” she replies softly.
Lashes fan over my vision. “Sylvanians abroad.”
She laughs in that sexy cadence, forcing a smile to settle on my lips, picturing the curve of hers as I slip further into slumber. Her presence is alarmingly stunning.
I’m so fucked.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “Imagine it. I’ll set little scenes up in special places. In different countries. And it’ll be whatreallyhappened that day because that version will be the best one. For once, it’ll be what I wanted to happen that day.”
I don’t want to miss that.
“Can I come?” Breathing deeply with my eyes closed, unconsciousness reaches for me. I can still feel the way she combs her fingers through my hair, and that place inside my chest gets warmer.
The last thing I hear before I fall asleep is a quiet sentence that cements in my soul. “It wouldn’t be the best version unless you were in every scene, Hothead.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
kaya
I knewhe wasn’t okay.
Exhaling, I watch him deep in slumber, feel his sleepy weight on the bed. Between my thighs, I’m throbbing. Intensely passionate is what I expected from Xander Butcher. Passionately intense is the result.
I’m not a fool. I know this is going to be hard. That he’s broken. I’m difficult. We’re a hot mess that mends each other before our breath catches.
But I love him broken with all the difficult parts of me and the rest too.Is it possible to love too much, too hard, too quickly?Is it bad? Love shouldn’t be moderated or controlled.
I touch the bruises below his brow.
My broken beauty.
But potently masculine, too.
I’m gazing at him, enamoured by the way he smells like man—is that even a scent—the way he sleeps heavily like exhaustion rid him of gravity, and yet, quietly vulnerable.
When my phone chimes, I fumble.
I reach for the bedside table, the tips of my fingers skimming the device, before nudging it close enough to grab hold. Smiling still, feeling in love and sore in all the right ways, I pull it to my face and see the word, Kenno, flashing at me. My cheeks rush cold.
Resting my hand on Xander’s chest, I glance at him, before using the one hand I have free from his body to display the message.
Kenno:
Ding. Ding. Ding. And sold to the mysterious ManXY who wants to meet you at the Ritz Carlton tomorrow night. There is a booking under C.Ray. Everything sorted.
I can’t breathe.I thought I had time to cancel. Surely, I can still cancel. Surely!
My heart gallops between my ears, the noise loud enough that I gape at Xander again and wonder whether the violent organ will rouse him.
Kaya:
Is it too late to cancel?
Kenno:
