My Southern Lover

PROLOGUE

Two days before hell broke loose, 

I thought I could still imagine forever with the love of my life. 

We were lying on the roof of the pool house, our bodies tangled together, skin still damp from a the swim we took behind Cass’ mother’s back. The stars above Savannah had never felt so close, and Cassian Thornwell was grinning like he didn't own half the state — like he didn't have a worry in the world besides me.

Don't laugh," he said, eyes flicking toward me. "But I think I want six kids."

I gaped. "Six?"

"Okay, five. Four at a bare minimum. Three if they're all boys and they wrestle like tiny demons."

"You're literally describing feral raccoons," I said with a loud laugh. 

"Own it. You'd be a hot raccoon mom.”

I shoved his shoulder, and he caught my wrist mid-air, intertwining our fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world. And to us, it was.

"I'm serious, Belle."

His voice dipped low, just enough to make my belly flutter.

"I want this. You. Us. I know we're young and still figuring shit out but… I see it. You and me. Always."

I couldn't breathe for a second. Couldn't look away from the boy, sorry, man who'd been my best friend since I was ten — the man who'd steal bread rolls from the kitchen and sneak them to me because he thought I was too skinny.

"You don't have to say it back," he said quickly. "Not yet. I just—needed you to know.".

My heart was already replaying it on repeat. But I didn't speak the words.

I leaned in, kissed him instead. Our lips glided against each other, and when he bit my bottom lip I opened up for him, his hot tongue sliding against mine in a fashion so erotic, the wetness in my bikini bottoms was definitely not only as a result of the water.

Cassian glided his hands down my body and slipped them between my legs.

When his fingers finally reached my clothed core, I let out a gasp, my back arching into him as I tried to muffle the moans trying to escape my lips.

“Shh, cherry” he said, licking the shell of my ear. “We don’t want our mothers catching us now, do we?”

I could only give a slight nod as his strokes became faster, bolder. 

He’d just pushed my bikini bottoms to the side when I heard my mother call my name.

I pulled away from the kiss, my breath still coming out in strained gasps. His fore and middle finger circled my clit with just the right amount of pressure, making me unable to speak properly.

“Cass, I-” a whimper left my lips when he slipped two fingers in me. 

“Belle,” my mother called again, but this time, closer. “Where are you?”

“Cassian,” I whispered, pulling his lips away from my pulse. He looked up then, his eyes, normally seafoam green, now dark with lust. 

His fingers stopped their movement inside me and he closed his eyes, placing his head against mine and kissing my inner wrists. 

“Go,” he growled, slipping his fingers from my core. “Before I devour you here.”

“I’ll see you later right?” I asked, my voice still shaky with unfulfilled need.

“Of course, cherry,” he replied with a smile. “Always.”

I returned his smile, and on shaky legs, I went to look for my mother.

Two days later, I destroyed him.

---

He slammed the door behind him hard enough to shake the floorboards. I jumped. My hands shook as I folded the last of my clothes into the duffel bag.

"Say it again," he said. His voice was low, even—too even.

I didn't turn around.

"You heard me."

"Yeah," he spat, bitterness in his voice. "I heard you tell her you never loved me. That you were only ever in it for the money. That this—" he waved his hand between us like it was something filthy "—was just a game to you."

I zipped the bag slowly.

"This isn’t you, Belle. You're not a liar."

I turned over my shoulder.

"And what if I am?" I said in a flat voice.

Something in his face broke. Just for a moment, but long enough for me to catch it. 

"You're really saying… all those nights—everything—was just a fluke? Is that it?" 

I didn't answer. 

"Christ." He ran a hand through his hair. "My mother warned me. She said you were just another girl after my name. I told her she was wrong." 

"Looks like she wasn't."

He laughed, short and hard. "No. No, see, I know you. I know you, Belle. You don't even care about money. You used to bitch about my trust fund and how stupid rich people were."

I stepped around him. He caught my arm.

"Look me in the face and say it. Say you don't love me."

My mouth was dry.

"Say it, Belle." I didn’t want to, but I had to.

I faced him. Let my face go cold and then, I let the lie swallow me whole.

"I don't love you. I never did. And your mother was right—you were always too easy to play."

He flinched as if I'd punched him.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Okay then." He moved backward, like I was a disease he didn’t want to touch.

"Go, then. Go chase your next paycheck."

I picked up my bag and headed for the door.

"I was going anyway," I said.

And I walked out.

The hallway outside of the west wing of the Thornwell estate was quiet. 

Too quiet.

The floor creaked beneath my feet as I walked towards the servant's entrance, the weight of what I had done crushing every bone in my body.

I halted in front of the oak-paneled door leading out to the garden path.

And there she stood.

Savannah Thornwell.

Lipstick perfect. Not a black hair out of place. Her pearls shone in the light like a threat.

She didn't smile.

"Is it done?" she said.

My fingers tightened on the strap of my duffel.

I didn't answer.

I just kept moving past her.

But her voice followed me, silky and lethal:

"Good girl.”