Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
My eyes drifted to the next cluster.
It was us and all the dances we’d attended together. Homecomings and proms. For each of them, I’d propositioned her house with a ridiculous sign, flowers, the whole cliché, because even though we’d known long before then, she was going with me as my date, she deserved everything. The little moments and the big ones. I would never miss a chance to make her feel wanted or special.
Another picture was of us at the county fair. We were on the Tilt-a-Whirl. Her hair was flying, her head thrown back in laughter. I had my arm locked around her waist to try and keep her still. Diagonal from that was us at camping, firelight dancing against her skin, her head resting on my shoulder, both of us wrapped in the same blanket. That night sky above us stretched on forever. One thing all these photos started to have in common was the way she looked at me in them.
I tore my eyes away from the board and moved back across the room. I stopped at the edge of her bed again, bracing my hands on the footboard. How could one woman be so beautiful? Even half-buried in blankets, her hair a wild halo against the pillow, a faint crease between her brows like she was still arguing with someone in her sleep.
I was down so fucking bad for her.
I loved her so much it made me sick.
She’d seen flashes of it, the cruelty and the possessive streak. She loved me anyway. She was there when the golden boy's shine cracked and flaked off in sharp little pieces.
I turned and sat at the foot of her bed, elbows braced on my knees, the mattress dipping beneath me.
I’d left Ellie’s hours ago. I showered at the pool house to wash the night off me. The sweat, the smoke. The blood.
Then I came straight here.
I needed this.
Not just her body curled beneath the sheets. Not just the scent of her skin still clinging to the pillow. I needed the quiet. The piece of myself that hadn’t rotted beneath expectation and control. The part she kept tethered to something soft and human. She made it too easy to forget how dangerous I really was.
“Rye?” her voice floated from behind me, thick with sleep.
A slow grin tugged at my mouth. I looked back at her. “Would any other man be in your room this late, Sass?”
She blinked at me, then moved, crawling down the bed. One hand brushed her hair from her face, dark strands tumbling like ink across her shoulder and catching the moonlight as she reached me. She rested her head against my back, looping an arm around my chest, her body molding to mine perfectly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
My eyes closed. Her voice could’ve shattered me or saved me.
“Nothing, just needed to be here.”
She was quiet for a second. “What time is it?”
“A little after two.”
“Come lie down,” she murmured.
She didn’t have to ask twice.
I let her pull me with her, the two of us moving to the other end of the bed and wordlessly slipping beneath the comforter like we’d done a hundred times before, bodies fitting together like muscle memory. Like every night we’d spent apart had been a mistake, the universe was finally correcting.
It was only when she shifted closer that her fingers brushed my hand.
She paused.
Brows pulled in, lashes low as her hand reached again—more deliberate this time—curling gently around the bandaged skin. Her thumb ghosted over the edge of it like it might unravel if she pressed too hard.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep, soft and serious.
“Nothing bad,” I assured her.
Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “Rye—did you do something?”
I held her stare, the lie itching behind my teeth, begging to be swallowed whole. I couldn’t give it to her. I pulled my wrist from her grasp and brought my hand to her face instead, cupping her cheek with the same palm she’d been cradling.
“I promise I’m not in trouble,” I said quietly. “You don’t need to worry.”
She didn’t answer right away.
Just stared at me, her lips parted like the words were there but stuck, caught between suspicion and trust. Like she was chewing over whether to push or let it go.
Eventually, she chose the latter.
She scooted closer. Her leg slid over mine. Her hand slipped beneath my shirt, fingers spreading wide across my ribs like she was trying to anchor me there. Her nose brushed the curve of my neck, breath warm against my skin.
She inhaled.
Breathed me in.
Her lips grazed my throat—just the faintest touch, soft as a sigh—but it scorched through me like fire.
My jaw flexed. Eyes slammed shut. Her breath fanned over the place her mouth had touched, and I swore.
“Did you just shower?” she asked, running her fingers through my hair.