Page 89 of Mr. Wicked

“Jovana . . . I’m done.”

With his voice a full-blown growl, the phone almost dropped from my hand as I lowered my arm.

I quickly clicked on the photos, scrolling through the twenty or so I’d taken.

With the right filter and a tiny bit of Photoshopping, eliminating the furrow between his brows, I’d have something good enough to post.

“I need you in your bed. Now.”

His statement pierced my ears, stressing how close we still were.

As I turned toward him, holding the top of the blanket so I could lift it off me and get out, I paused. Something in his eyes wasn’t letting me go. It was pulling me toward him instead.

Holding me.

Begging for me.

Was that why he wanted me to leave? Because he was having a hard time controlling himself with me being so close, physically forcing himself not to pull me on top of him?

Was he feeling everything that was flowing through my body?

Did he—

“Jovana ...” His tone was different this time. Rather than being deep and gritty and demanding, it was almost needy.

He focused on my right eye and then my left, his grip tightening on my shoulder, his face moving toward mine.

Just when he was about an inch away, he hesitated.

And he stayed right there.

“Good night.”

His words echoed through me, reinforcing that whatever I thought, whatever I anticipated happening, wasn’t going to.

This was it—the finale.

He wanted me out.

Now.

“Good night,” I whispered.

I pulled myself out of his bed and walked toward my wing, shutting the door behind me, and switching off the light before I climbed into bed.

I edited the photo as best as I could, smoothing out the elevens between his brows, adding a warm, crispy filter, and cropping the picture in a way that emphasized how he was holding me.

I didn’t care what he said, I could see there was emotion in both of our faces.

That meant my followers would be able to see it too.

I uploaded the pic to Instagram and added the caption: Hooked him.

Instead of putting his name, I tagged him in the post and scheduled it to release at eight tomorrow morning. With my lack of makeup and messy, mostly dried hair, it would look like we’d just woken up together. That we were midcuddle when we decided to air our tea.

That we were just two people with very different pasts who had found each other on Hooked and had completely, utterly fallen for one another.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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