Page 70 of Call You Mine

“When will you be back?” she asks, watching as I button my dress shirt and adjust the collar before grabbing my phone and keys from the table by her door.

“Don’t wait up, Princess,” I murmur under my breath before I exit her room and slam the door closed behind me.

I need to get out of here, and there’s only one place I know to go.

Chapter Nineteen

DAMON

Icould kill someone right now. That’s how damn crazy Wynter Servite has fucking made me.

I can’t get the taste of her out of my mouth. The absence of her intoxicating scent makes me feel like I can’t breathe. The sight of her naked body, perfect in every fucking way, is ingrained in my mind. I close my eyes and there she is, lying underneath me, her body writhing in pleasure as I fucked her the way I’d been dreaming of since the day she waltzed back through my door.

Beyond that, I’ve wanted to claim her since the first time I had her three years ago, yet I knew as much as I do now—knew she’d never be mine.

Wynter could ever belong to me. We’re from completely different worlds, even now that the roles have somewhat reversed, it’s almost as if we were born on different planets, in different realms, in alternate universes. I’ve said it so many times I’m bound to believe it at some point.

Yet it’s like every time I almost convince myself, there she is, making me believe in the possibility of beating all odds, of testing our destiny, challenging fate, and winning.

As much as I’ve tried, a girl like her is impossible to forget.

After what happened with Scarlett—when I became the possessive and controlling guy I hated—becoming Clarissa’s puppet and falling for her schemes when all she did was learn to prey on a weak man, I can’t lose myself again. And a woman like Wynter, she’s the kind of woman you get lost in. A wonder you can’t help getting consumed by. Mind, body, soul and whatever else exists.

From the first taste, I knew she was a drug I’d get dangerously addicted to if I indulged. The withdrawals I’d undergo would ruin me, forcing me to break my resolve and go in for hit after hit until it destroyed me.

Until I became nothing but a sick addict, a beggar who’d plead on my knees for my next high, or die trying.

Yet now here I am—falling into temptation—putting myself in danger by agreeing to be hers completely, even if it’s still only pretend.

The one thing that kept my dreams separate from reality was that I’d sworn to myself that I wouldn’t touch her. I’d already broken the rule so many times but I hadn’t fucked her and I was fooling myself into believing that would keep shit from crashing down before my feet.

But tonight, I made the mistake of testing fate and making my destiny. Friends with benefits—what a fucking cliche.

I pull up outside Kingsman Enterprises, unable to fathom staying in the same house as her. So I did what I do best when shit gets to real, I bolted. Grabbing an overnight bag I threw together before leaving, I lock my car and head upstairs to the apartment above the business I sometimes used to crash at when I was too tired or wasted to drive home after work. It’s beenmonths since I’ve used it, but I know Clarissa keeps it stocked and clean since she sometimes uses it for the new recruits orientation.

Sounds fucked, and that’s because it is. Clarissa is anything if not an efficient boss, and that means she’s also in charge of quality control. No point in selling the goods if they’re damaged, which is where she comes in. All new recruits must go through her screening process first before she allows them to step foot in the field. Some would say she’s a sick woman though if she were a man, no one would bat an eyelash—at least that’s the way she sees it.

Tapping my key card on the scanner, I enter the apartment, a simple yet luxuriously modern two-bedroom space with impeccable views of downtown Galen Grove in the distance. The city lights gleam shedding light in through the floor-length windows, illuminating the otherwise dark apartment in a glimmer of neon lights. Even from here, perched up at the top of the building I can hear the city buzzing with avid partygoers.

It’s fucking tiresome.

Walking over toward the bar at the far end of the living room, I pour myself two fingers of bourbon, then step out onto the balcony, letting the low breeze cool the fire burning inside me. I feel as the flames earlier ignited by the sheer touch of bitter coldness waver. My Ice Princess, my Wynter.

How ironic that she, who was born to be a glacial, is actually a flaming inferno?

The sound of music, a soft hum in the distance goes silent when I hear high heels click as she settles beside me. God fucking dammit.

I should have known she’d be here.

Her hand slithers over my shoulder, slowly her fingers trail a line over my chest before I clasp my fingers around her wrist, so tight she yelps as my fingers dig into her flesh.

“Mmm,” she moans, a sickening sound I’ve grown to loathe. “Looks like Draco has come out to play tonight,” she says, calling me by the name she christened me with after recruiting me. But she’s so fucking wrong. I’m done playing her games.

Throwing the now empty glass in my hand off the balcony, I stand stoic as it shatters the moment it hits the pavement. Turning away from her without even acknowledging her presence, I head back inside the apartment, though she’s right behind me, not getting the fucking message. I don’t want to be around her.

“If I’d known you were here, I never would have come,” I growl, reaching for the bottle of bourbon and taking a long drink straight from it.

“You’ve always been impulsive,” she says, referring to the fact I just threw my empty glass off the balcony and have now come to drink from the bottle. At least I think that’s what she means, though she’s quick to clear the air. “I knew you wanted out, you made that perfectly clear, but for what? To go running into the arms of a girl so below your status. A mere spoiled brat who wouldn’t know how to appreciate what she has.”

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