Page 63 of Picture Perfect

Her hands, once pushing against my chest, now cling to me, nails digging into the fabric of my shirt as if she could tear through the layers and find the truth of me beneath.

"Let go, Snowflake. Just feel," I breathe against her mouth. She tastes like ice and cherries and I want more, I need more.

Chess pulls away, his eyes are wide and full of the same fire that possesses me. His lips find mine with a raw intensity that threatens to consume us.

Snowflake’s eyes widen as the heat between us builds, seeming to spark a fire within her too. Her lips part slightly as I pull back, my lips curling into an easy smile. I lean forward to capture her lips once more, but Saint's voice cuts through the tension.

"Enough," he demands. But the rasp of his voice gives him away. He wants a piece of her too. Why wouldn't he? My snowflake is fucking perfection.

"We need to go."

Snowflake's eyes flick from me to Saint to Chess, her gaze searching. I lean in and capture her lips in another kiss before I nod, reluctantly releasing my snowflake from our passionate embrace. My hand lingers on her throat, feeling the rapid thud of her pulse.

Chess steps back, his breath ragged, and I can see the desire burning in his eyes. I'll be taking care of him before the night is out.

We climb back out the window and skulk back to the car. As Saint pulls away from the curb, leaving my snowflake behind, I make my intentions known.

"I want her. I'm not giving her up."

Chapter thirty-one

Addy

The hum of computers and the faint smell of overheating electronics blend into the background as I sink deeper into the worn-out couch in the corner of the lab. Dre's presence beside me is a constant reminder of the line we've crossed—a line that feels like a chasm now, one I'm not sure I can bridge again.

My thoughts scratch at the inside of my skull. The boys are an enigma wrapped in contradiction—enticing yet dangerous, like a siren's call that promises destruction. What do I even want? And, more importantly, can I trust them?

"Hey, hey, hey!" Gen's voice cuts through my mental fog, her excitement palpable as she bursts into the room. Her every step seems to bounce with an energy that's alien to me. Dre looks up from his phone, one eyebrow cocked, about to say something probably snarky, but Gen doesn't give him the chance.

"Outta the way, Dre," she says, grinning as she nudges him aside with her hip. He rolls his eyes but shifts, allowing her to plop down between us. There's something about Gen that makes you want to follow her lead—even if it's off a cliff.

"Guess who's got some juicy gossip?" Gen's green eyes flicker with mischief, drawing me out of my shell despite myself.

"Let me guess," Dre drawls, leaning back against the couch, his arm still stretching toward me, fingers twisting the ends of my hair. "Someone did something scandalous."

"Always." Gen turns to me, her smile softening a bit. "But that's not why I'm here. You doing okay, Addy? You've been quiet since...you know."

"Since Preston has made me his nemesis?" I murmur, trying to sound nonchalant. Dre's gaze sharpens on me, but I avoid his eyes, focusing on Gen's expectant face instead.

"Exactly," Gen says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But don't worry, bestie. I've got plans to distract you."

"Distractions sound good," I admit, though I'm not convinced. "Better than overthinking."

"Overthinking is Gen's middle name," Dre mutters, but there's a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Too true," Gen agrees, bumping her shoulder against mine playfully. "That's why we need to shake things up a bit."

"Shake things up how?" I ask, though part of me already knows I might regret asking.

"Cover your ears, boys," Gen teases, winking at me. Dre rolls his eyes again but pretends to plug his ears with his fingers. Chess glances at us over his shoulder before continuing to clack away at his keyboard and Saint ignores us completely.

Gen leans closer, lowering her voice even though Dre is clearly not listening. "I've got a little secret mission for us."

"Secret mission?" The words taste like adventure and danger on my tongue. I feel a twinge of excitement, quickly smothered by anxiety.

"Yup." Gen's confidence is infectious, but it's battling with the knot of apprehension in my stomach. "It'll be epic."

"Everything with you is 'epic,'" Saint says.

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