“Get in my bed, Snitch.” I spoke against the top of her head—it smelled like marshmallows. Is that why she always smelled so sweet? It didn’t sound like my voice, but with Snitch, I was learning my voice was a raw and grated thing.
She pulled back, and my eyes dropped to her full lips.
Fuck, I wanted to kiss her. I came really close last night.
“Are you gonna kick me out again?” she asked.
I bit my cheek to keep from smiling. “Maybe.”
Her jaw quirked, and I wanted her to say something. Talk back. She was the only one who did. But she only stood. I stayed on the ground as she did, catching a rare glimpse of her bare knees in her nun nightgown.
Only goddamn Snitch could get me hard over knees, like I was fucking Amish.
When she was settled in my bed, she threw me a curious look. I stood up as well and went to the other side. I stopped, looking at her. Snitch had settled atop the covers again. She gave me that walnut-sized open eyed-stare.
“Get under the sheets,” I grated.
She chewed her bottom lip for a few seconds, then slowly crawled under. I came in after her. I knew I should probably turn on my side and face the ocean. I was starting to like her in my bed too much.
I’d even made a rule last night: don’t bring her up on the bed—and also keep my fucking mouth shut. But when she got it wrong, when she saw me the way everyone else saw me, it fucking twisted me up.
I lay on my side, face edging my pillow, and she did the same.
Nose to nose, her warming my sheets.
Fuck, I really liked this.
“Do you believe in soulmates?” she asked softly.
I arched a brow. “Like fate bullshit?”
“Like…maybe there’s someone out there for us, someone we match with, someone whose soul fits our soul.”
I paused, then said, “Nah.”
“What about Lottie?”
I laughed. “Lottie is way too pure to be my soulmate.”
She frowned at that, and I decided I really didn’t like it when she frowned.
I tried to lighten the mood with another laugh. “Why, do you have a soulmate, Snitch?”
She rested her cheek on her palm and stared back at me, way too open and honest. “If I do, I don’t think he’s someone I’ll end up with.”
Twenty-One
STORY
* * *
Grayson Crowne was asleep, and I was next to him. Me. Morning light bathed him, muscles lovingly chiseled by golden sunlight. I wanted to curl up closer to his naked chest. I wanted this to be something I was allowed.
I started off believing his lies. No one was worthy of him, and that was why he’d never had sex, never let anyone in his wing…But now I saw through it. He’s been burned too many times, he can’t trust a
nyone, he barely trusts himself.
What a lonely, heartbreaking existence.