I raised the bottle to my lips, taking a drink of the bourbon. I tilted my head to the side, studying the painting in front of me. I frowned, anger simmering inside me. I couldn’t seem to get her lips right. They weren’t as plump looking on canvas as they were in person. I also struggled to get the right shade of blue for her eyes.
For so long, unless it was a commission piece, all I had painted was Cayla. Her image haunted my nightmares—a beautiful life cut so short. I carried an immense amount of guilt for her death. If one of us was going to die, it should have been me. Not her. She was so bright and happy, the kind of person who lit up a room. Compared to her, I was nothing but a poser. Looking back on that night, I’d wished a million times that I had let her come to The Cove with me. I could have spared her a tragic fate with one decision. I knew deep down, in what was left of my twisted and tortured soul, that if Cayla had lived, I wouldn’t have descended into this never-ending spinning hole of madness. She wouldn’t have let me.
But the image in front of me wasn’t of Cayla.
It was Sutton.
Now, she was the one overtaking my nightmares. She was always there, hovering in my mind. Day or night. I had become addicted to her, and I’d barely had one hit. She was a dangerous and powerful toxin for my bloodstream, because she didn’t dull me. She made me feel alive.
I wiped the paint that had gotten on my fingers onto my jeans.
I swirled the brush in the cup of water, contemplating what I needed to do to fix the lips and get them right.
A little voice in my head told me I could always “study” them up close and personal.
I wanted to agree with the voice in my head, but after how I’d hurt her this morning I doubted she’d ever come near me again. My true colors had really shown through then. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but it had scared the crap out of me. I hadn’t been myself, not at all.
A knock on the door sounded, jostling me from my thoughts. I took another swig of the bourbon and set it down along with the paintbrush.
Sighing, I raked a hand through my hair.
Unlike normal, I wasn’t angry at being disturbed. I was too tired.
I opened the door and my mouth fell open as I looked down at the petite, raven-haired, woman standing in the hall.
My heart picked up speed in my chest.
The last time I’d felt this…overwhelming need and desire for someone was the night I lost my family.
Somehow, Sutton was resurfacing the Caelan I’d believed to be long gone.
I stood there, looking at her, unsure of what to do or what to say.
She made the decision for me.
She pushed past me, into the apartment and stood there. “Close the door,” she said calmly. “I have some things I want to say to you and you’re going to listen.”
I nodded, surprising her and myself, by listening to her instructions. I closed the door and stood in front of her. A few feet separated us. It was like she needed space to speak.
Taking a deep breath, she dropped her purse on the ground, as if it was weighing her down and she needed to rid herself of it before she sank.
“I’m not scared of you,” she said slowly. “I know you think I am after what happened, and if I was a sane person I would be, but I’m not sane Caelan. I’ve been through things too,” tears pricked her eyes but she dammed them back. “You and I, we need each other. I know you feel it too, so don’t you dare try to fucking contradict me. I know we’re fucked up and neither of us is whole,” she bit her lip, “we’re a mess, Caelan. Together we’re like a damn war. I know in a war there are casualties, but fuck it if I don’t want to try.” She took a deep breath. “I know I should stay far away from you, but I can’t. I know you think you’re nothing but a druggie and a bad person, but you’re not Caelan! There are a lot worse people out there than you!” She spoke with such passion that my heart clenched in—what was that? Pity? Remorse? I couldn’t understand it. But I realized that Sutton had been through a lot. Maybe, just as much as me. Spreading her arms out, she continued, “Anyone can be a villain, but not everyone can be a hero. I’m not asking you to change for me, or to even date me,” she laughed humorlessly. “I just want you to stop denying this undeniable cosmic connection we have. It’s real!” She stomped her foot. “It’s fucking real.” Her voice softened and her breath gusted between her parted lips.
I didn’t know what to say.
But I knew what to do.
I’d been alone for so damn long, and God if it didn’t feel right with her. She got me. No one else did.
I closed the gap between us, claiming her lips with mine.
She was stunned at first, but slowly her body responded to mine. A small moan escaped her and it sent all the blood in my body rushing south. I cupped the back of her neck in one hand, and the other pressed against her slender waist, causing her body to melt into mine.
Her fingers curled in my hair, wrapping around the small strands, as she surrendered herself to me.
I knew then, that she was mine for the taking.
To cherish.