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“Ever heard of sarcasm?” he spoke around that easy grin. “Yeah. It’s the lowest form of wit.” That awarded me another amused chuckle.
I bared my teeth. “I’m not a circus monkey.” “No.” He drummed his long fingers over his desk. “They are trained. You are not.”
Yes. Your assistant in a cage, so I can cross-examine her in ways that’d make the Spanish Inquisition look like Sesame Street.
And still, I continued, “My behavior yesterday might have been uncalled for.” “Your existence is uncalled for.”
“You know, some of us see a woman and don’t instinctively want to stick our fingers in her pussy.” He was referring to my job. I grinned. “Spoken like a kid who’s never stuck his fingers in a pussy.”
“This book holds one of my favorite quotes: I am too fond of books to care to write them. It’s true. Once your art becomes your job, it loses its elusive, sexy charm.
This spot offered a clear line of sight to Charlie, which wasn’t ideal, considering she looked like she had stuff she wanted to say and I found it fuck-hard to drag my eyes away. She mouthed something, but she sucked at it so bad, her tongue swiped her lips. And that got my dick’s attention.
It was all the more impressive when I remembered that the man who’d written it had the emotional intelligence of a walnut
“If the archeologist fails, you can try a private detective next. I hear they’re good at finding things.” “A gynecologist might be a safer bet,” a deep voice suggested from behind. “Of course, you know that from personal experience.”
😮
I came face to face with the bane of my existence.
“One last chance to run,” he hissed, his blue eyes darkening. I made a point of not moving an inch here or there. He picked a book off of the shelf—The Merchants of Souls—and used it to cover both our faces as he yanked me to his hard body, pressing my waist against his. He grabbed the front of my neck almost punishingly, possessively. Then his lips crashed down on mine like a thunderstorm.
“A penny for your thoughts,” I whispered to him, my voice still smoky. “I would like to see more of you and less of your clothes. A penny for yours.”
I knew myself well enough to know I didn’t survive books. They tore me to shreds. I’d never met an inanimate object as talented at breaking hearts as a book.
It was so Kellan Marchetti to be both his own killer and immortalizer. I said this aloud, and Charlie laughed. A genuine one, this time.
“I didn’t mean to unravel you.”
“Addiction can be hereditary.” “Is being an asshole hereditary?” “In the Marchetti household? Yes.”
“I have the means to buy my own food,” he said casually. As if he hadn’t just touched me. Lit a match. Left me to burn. “If I wanted to, I would have.”
Tightly packed abs rippled the surface of his stomach. He stole my breath. Ripped it right out of my chest and took it as his. “That’s so unfair.” I groaned. He grinned.
“I love you,” I whispered against his lips.
This is so embarrassing
He looked me straight in the eyes, unwavering. “You’re breathing, Charlie. You are breathing, and it is beautiful, and I am so grateful for that.”
“Look at you, Charlie. I never stood a fucking chance.”
And this time, I said the words. In my head. Where the demons feasted on my weaknesses and told me I didn’t deserve her.
“Are you mad?” “I’m never mad at you, Charlie.”
“I don’t read. That’s what you’re here for. Remember?” “You won’t suddenly catch the writer’s bug if you read one book. Somehow, I highly doubt you’re liable for a mid-life career change.” “Mid-life? I’m in my mid-thirties.” I scrunched my nose. “Positively geriatric.”
That Asshole gave me hope.
This will be the only time I admit I love my brother. So, savor it, folks. It’s all you’re gonna get.
But he’s never received as much love as he’s given. Unconditionally. Without expecting a damn thing in return. One day, it’ll happen, and he won’t know how to react. Without even trying, That Asshole will ruin the woman he loves.
Tate held a penny in his hand, flipping it over and over. He tossed it to me. “Penny for your thoughts.” “I miss you,” I admitted. I flipped the coin back, waiting for him to catch it. “Penny for yours.” “You’re it.”
“You said you wished you could find the thing to keep me going. You’re it, Charlie. You’re the thing that keeps me going.” I remembered that day. We’d talked on the phone for the first time, then I showed up at his house. I was already falling back then. “I love you, Charlotte Richards. I can’t promise you I’ll always be okay, but I can promise you I’ll always love you and I’ll never be ashamed to say it. Over the past five years, I lost myself in grief. But then I found the most precious thing in the world—you.”
