บททั้งหมดของ CRAVING MY FORBIDDEN STEPBROTHER: บทที่ 81 - บทที่ 90

“Bathroomq,” I say.His thumb stops.“Here,” he says.“Now.”“You’re serious.”“Do I look like I’m joking.”A beat. His eyes search my face. Then his hand closes around mine and he walks.Fast. Past the food carts and the game stalls and a woman selling glow sticks, and I’m holding Gerald against my chest trying to look casual, trying to look like a person who is going to the bathroom for normal bathroom reasons. The family restroom is near the back of the park. Single room. Locking door.He checks inside. Empty. Pulls me in. The lock clicks behind us.Fluorescent light buzzing above us. Industrial soap smell. The floor tiles slightly wet. A mirror with a crack running through it above the sink.I don’t notice any of it because his mouth is on mine before the lock finishes turning.He lifts me onto the edge of the sink. My legs wrap around him immediately, pulling him in, and Gerald drops to the floor and I don’t care. His hands push my skirt up around my waist and my fingers are on h

I look around the rooftop and my hand goes to the back of my chair because I need to hold something.Roses along the railing. Not a few, not a tasteful arrangement. Roses everywhere, lining every surface, clustered on the stone, petals loose on the ground like someone scattered them by hand. Candles in glass holders, dozens of them, their flames barely moving in the still air. String lights overhead, not yet competing with the sunset. One table. White cloth. Two chairs.And nothing else. Nobody else. The entire roof is empty.“How did you do this,” I say, and my voice sounds far away from me.“My uncle owns the hotel.” He sits across from me and adjusts his cuffs once, quick, the kind of small movement he makes when he wants his hands busy. “Called in a favor. Had him clear the roof for tonight.”“A favor.” I grip the edge of the table. “Your uncle cleared the entire rooftop of his hotel because he owed you a favor.”“I helped him move a couch once.”“Cain.”“It was a heavy couch.”Th

He closes the door behind us and the room is dark.Not fully dark. The balcony doors are open and the moon is doing something to the lake, turning it silver and flat, and the light comes through in a pale stripe that cuts across the bed and the floor and stops at his shoes.Neither of us reaches for the switch.I stand in the middle of the room with my back to him and I can feel him behind me the way you feel heat from a doorway. Close. Not touching. Just there.His fingers find the back of my neck first. Light. Barely a touch. They trail down to where the clasp of the necklace sits and rest there, his thumb against the chain, and his breath is warm on the skin behind my ear.“I want to remember everything about tonight,” I say.His lips replace his fingers. A press against the nape of my neck, slow, his mouth open just enough that I feel the warmth of it spread down my spine.“You will,” he says against my skin.“I mean it.” My eyes close. “Every second. I want to keep every second.”

I wake up to his mouth on my shoulder.Not kissing. Just resting there. His lips barely parted against my skin, warm and dry, like he's been lying here for a while with his face pressed against me, breathing me in while I slept.The room is bright. Morning sun through the curtains, everything turned gold and hazy, and the lake outside is lit up so bright it hurts to look at. The air from the open balcony is cool against my bare skin and his body behind mine is warm and I am caught between the two temperatures and I don't want to move. I don't want to move for the rest of my life.His arm is still across my waist. His fingers are still laced through mine. And the pendant is still under our joined hands, right where I fell asleep holding it.I shift slightly. Press back into him. Feel the solid wall of his chest against my spine, his heartbeat slow and steady behind my ribs, and his arm tightens and pulls me closer and I feel him. Hard. Pressing against me through the thin space between

CAINShe’s packing and I’m watching her from the bathroom doorway and I can’t stop looking at the necklace.It catches the light every time she bends to fold something. The little red ballerina, mid-pose, the rose petals of her tutu flaring out against her chest. She hasn’t taken it off. Not to sleep. Not to shower. Her fingers go to it every few minutes without her realizing, this absent touch, like she’s checking it’s still there.My dad called twenty minutes ago and his voice was wrong.I can’t place it. Low, careful, words measured out the way he talks when he’s already decided something and he’s calculating how to hand it to you. He didn’t tell me what happened. Just come home now. That’s it. My dad doesn’t leave things unsaid unless saying them over the phone would make it worse.Layla zips her bag and looks at me.“You’re staring,” she says.“Yeah.”“You’ve been standing there for five minutes.”“I know.”She crosses the room. Stands in front of me. Her big dark eyes looking up