Page 52 of From the Wreckage
“Appreciate it, Everett.” He nods, his fingers moving over his phone, before he pockets it. “I just let her know you’ll be coming to get her.” He’s already bending to line up another board. “She’ll be glad to see you.”
The words cut deeper than he knows.
Because he’s right. And that’s exactly the problem.
The driveinto town is short, but every mile tightens the coil inside me. Grayson’s words echo in my head. “You mind grabbing her?... She’ll be glad to see you.”
If he only knew how glad.
I pull into the lot outside Pine & Page, spotting her through the big front windows before I kill the engine. She’s curled in one of the mismatched armchairs, legs tucked under her, a paperback open in her lap. A tall, iced caramel latte sweats on the small table beside her.
My chest eases for the first time all day—until I see some guy approach her. My eyes narrow. He looks to be in his mid-twenties and has too much gel in his hair. He stops beside her chair, standing way too close. His grin is cocky as he gestures at her book like he’s the goddamn expert on whatever she’s reading. His eyes are on her cleavage more than her face.
My hands fist on the steering wheel. Heat floods my veins, sharp and ugly. I shove out of the truck and stalk across the lot, my boots hitting the pavement like war drums.
The bell above the door jingles when I step inside. The air smells like espresso and old pages, but all I can taste is jealousy.
Bri’s eyes lift, hazel irises locking with mine, and her whole face lights up. Her smile—soft and secretive—slices the tension in half. For a second, I almost forget the guy hovering over her.
He follows her gaze, turning to glance at me. His grin falters when he takes in my six-foot-plus frame, my black tee stretched over my muscles, a scowl carved into my face.
“Everett.” Her voice is warm and bright, like I’m the only one who matters. “Hey.”
I stride over, every instinct in me screaming to stake my claim. “Angel.” My voice is low, rougher than I mean it to be.
The guy clears his throat, still lingering. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says, holding his hands up like I might swing at him. “We were just talking books.”
“Conversation’s over,” I bite out, not taking my eyes off Bri.
Color flares in her cheeks, but it’s not embarrassment. It’s heat. She knows exactly what I’m doing. And she doesn’t stop me.
The guy mutters something under his breath and backs off, heading toward the counter. My eyes follow him until he’s gone, then snap back to her.
She’s smirking behind her straw as she takes a slow sip of her latte. “Possessive much?” she teases softly.
I lean down, bracing one hand on the arm of her chair, caging her in. “You have no idea.”
Her lips part, her pulse fluttering in her throat. “I think I like it.”
Christ.My restraint frays, right there in the middle of the bookstore.
The look she gives me isn’t innocent. Not even close.
She knows exactly what she’s doing, feeding the fire that’s already burning me alive.
CHAPTER 35
Everett
“Finish your drink,”I rasp, “I’m taking you home.”
Instead of obeying, she tilts her head, mischief glinting in her eyes. “I want to show you something first.”
Before I can ask, she snaps her book closed, sets it on the table, and stands. Her fingers twine through mine—small, warm, and certain—as she tugs me toward the back of the shop.
The shelves grow taller, the lights dimmer, until we’re tucked into a quiet corner no one bothers with. My pulse spikes when she stops, pivots, and rises onto her toes. Her arms loop around my neck, pulling me down.
Her mouth finds mine in a kiss that detonates every ounce of restraint I’ve been clinging to. I groan against her lips, one arm banding tightly around her waist, the other sliding into her hair as I devour her. She tastes like espresso and heat, her body pressed flush to mine like she was made to fit there.
