Stolen Soulmate (Crowne Point 2)

“I don’t need you fucking up my relationship again by fucking her brother.”

“Are you jealous?”

I laughed.

No. Yes. Fuck.

“Jealous of West? He jacks off to the sound of his own voice.”

I swear I heard her laugh, but it was impossible to be certain with the music from the yacht and beach clashing together.

“What was that?” I asked, chasing after her. “Don’t give me bullshit about being friends.”

She was silent, ignoring me.

That pissed me off.

“Did you love him?” I goaded at her back. “Was I just witnessing a lovers’ quarrel?”

She stopped. “Yes.”

That hit me like a fucking arrow to the gut.

Love? She fucking loved him?

I dragged my hands through my still-wet hair, salt burning my nose. Why the fuck did that upset me? Story started walking again, faster, almost at the beach.

Fuck this. I never chased after girls. After anyone.

Yet I ran for her.

“You lied about your uncle too,” I said. “What other shit are you keeping hidden away?”

She tensed, then spun on me. “I didn’t want you to hurt him!”

I scoffed. I would never fucking hurt Woodsy. Ever. I never fucking did any of the shit I was accused of doing. People thought I got my guard deported because he looked me in the eyes. That dude saved my life and they thought I deported him? He was living out his dream of having an animal sanctuary somewhere in Brazil.

“So, what, you and West had some great fucking love affair? West du Lac?” I laughed. “You can look him in the eyes, but did he look back?”

Her glare sharpened. “You don’t think someone like me can be with someone like West?”

“I thought you said you knew your place, Snitch?” I countered.

“I said I know my place. I didn’t say that made you better than me.” She took a step to me. “You were born above me. I was born below you. That’s fact. Pretending it doesn’t exist doesn’t make you enlightened or woke. But it doesn’t mean you’re better than me.” She looked away and said the next part so quietly I barely heard her. “That’s the part everyone always forgets, anyway.”

Sadness swamped her, stole her breath, her energy.

I knew I should be fucking livid. She lied about her uncle. There was something weird going on with her and West, the fucking brother of the chick I was trying to win back, but the abject look on her face made rational thought fly out the window.

I pulled her to me with one arm, anchoring her against my wet body.

She tensed. “What are you doing?”

“Right now…you’re just Story, and I’m Gray.”

Story stayed tense, like she wanted to pretend she was fine, but my body was cold with the ocean, and her hot tears branded my skin.

When I pulled back, she moved to completely separate, but I kept her still. Our chests touching, my arm anchoring her shoulder blades, the other at her jaw, lifting her eyes to mine.