Page 60 of Moth to a Flame

“No college.” A statement, not judgment.

“Nope, neither one of us.” I shrug. “Dad wrote his debut when he was sixteen. Maybe you’ve heard of it,Brandon’s Skeleton.”

“Have I heard of it?” What’s this? I managed to surprise the big, unflappable Landon Sterling? I think I have. “Jesus, it’s only one of the most famous horror books ever. They turned it into a movie.”

My chest puffs with pride. “I thought you knew, Stalker.”

“Brat.” Landon’s large palm cracks on my ass. I laugh, trying to run away before he hauls me into his chest. It’s awkward, walking with my back to his front. We do it anyway. “I had no idea he was sixteen when he wrote it.”

“Yeah. Writing has always been his passion. That and my mom. He had his mind set on starting a family with her right after high school and being able to provide for them. So he wrote a book.”

“Just like that?” Landon leans over and kisses the top of my head.

“Yeah. Just like that.”

“Is that how you and Rosemary learned how to repair electronics?” We walk around a man wearing headphones and bobbing his head to the beat. Landon handles me carefully until I’m at his side again. “Just like that?”

“Nope. Mom taught us everything we know.” I turn to him, grinning widely. “She has the magic touch. Rosemary and I were like two groupies, always watching her. We never had to go to a repair store for anything. Ever.”

“Impressive.”

I reach for his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. “My turn. What about your family?”

“My parents are dead.” His voice is flat. Expression blank. “Before you say anything, don’t. You don’t have to be sorry. She sure wasn’t.”

In four short sentences, Landon has turned my world upside down. It’s not that I’m that sheltered that I think everyone’s parents are like mine. Couples divorced. Separated. Died in freak accidents or of terminal illnesses.

The way Landon talks about his parents, though, it makes my heart drop.

“What are you doing?”

He drags me to the nearby alley, slamming me into the brick wall.

“I’ll tell you what happened.” His hair frames his face as he leans into me. “First things first, otherwise everything will get real depressing real fast. I’m not leaving here without talking to you about this.”

“This?” God, this dark alley. The huge man. How he cups my cheeks and makes me weak for him.

If there was ever a time to be afraid…

Except I don’t smell rotten apples. I don’t feel grass scratching the back of my body over and over and over again.

I smell a slightly spicy and highly intoxicating cologne. A hint of the ocean. I have a firm brick wall at my back.

The huge man doesn’t use an ounce of force to get me to bend to his will.

He uses his heart.

That, more than anything, makes all the difference.

“Free use.” His fingers dig into my jaw, tilting my face up even higher. “Have you ever heard about that?”

“No.” But it sounds hot. Everything that comes out of his mouth does.

“In Moth to a Flame, you were looking for a consensual non-consent role play.”

I will not be shamed for my fantasy. I will not stand here and feel like I’m about to light up in literal flames while I hear him talking about it.

With my chin raised even higher, I say, “I was.”

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