Hothouse Flower (Calloway Sisters 2)

It didn’t help her sleep. I never expect it to. She gets about five hours now, and I just hope the more she opens up about the fucking past, the more she’ll stop waking in the middle of the night.

She’s definitely not as scared though.

It’s a start.

She wrings out her wet hair from the snowball fight and then belly-flops on the mattress. Staring at her bare back causes my breathing to heavy more than usual. Her jeans are fucking soaked, but I want them off for many fucking reasons. I yank them down her thighs and off her ankles urgently, my eyes trailing the tattoo between her shoulder blades as I do so. I was with her the day she got it.

She’s smiling, her head turned as she catches my reaction.

I wear desire pretty easily now. But beneath that there’s something else. Something I haven’t shared with anyone but her.

The best fucking love.

I climb onto the bed, and my fingers outline her tattoo before my mouth and tongue follow. The ink on her skin forms a dream catcher, with three feathers.

But along the frame is a small design of a wolf, protecting all of her restless and wild fucking dreams from the bad.

I love the tattoo. I love her. I love this—being able to kiss her without fear. There is judgment still, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.

She rolls over on her back, and I press my hands on either side of her head, caging her beneath my body while I stare down.

“Costa Rica,” I tell her, staring into her bold green eyes. “That’s where I want to take you next.”

She smiles. “Will we be kissing underneath waterfalls?”

“There will be more than just kissing.”

Her face brightens to the hun

dredth degree. And I skim the scar that pulls her cheek, rising from her jaw to her temple.

She watches as my gaze dances over the old wound. “Am I the beast to your beauty now?” she asks, her eyes glimmering.

I shake my head. “No, sweetheart, we’re both fucking beasts.” I’ll show you in a second. I’m about to kiss her, but her smile slowly vanishes, lost in her head for a moment.

I frown. “What’s wrong?” She told me something yesterday that’s stayed with me. She said that she’s not used to making people so uncomfortable, and when strangers look at her face, that’s what happens.

“Does it remind you of that night?” she asks. “I’ve always wondered…if those bad memories return when you see the scar.”

I can feel my features darkening, my face turning to stone. “No.”

“You don’t have to lie. It’s okay.” She flushes, hot with anxiety.

“I’m not.” I don’t have any fucking flashes of that night when I look at her cheek.

“Then what does it remind you of?”

I comb her hair off her forehead, and I turn her head towards me so I can see her scar fully. And my lips start to rise as the answer hits me. “It reminds me of all the reasons why I fucking love you.” I trace the edge by her temple. “You’re wild and daring and so fucking crazy.” It fits her feral nature—as odd as that fucking seems. I lean down and whisper in her ear, “I am proud to have you, Dais. Just like this.”

My lips meet hers roughly, my body driving forward against Daisy’s with every deep kiss.

When I part once, I run my fingers through her chopped blonde hair, and I breathe against her ear, “I want to hear you fucking roar, Calloway.”

Her smile overtakes her face. And I stare right into her green eyes, ones that I will look into for so many more fucking years.