I remember doing that with him, going to this park and training backflips and shit every week. It was always more his kind of thing than mine. Mine were cars. But since he did my hobby with me, I figured we could do something he enjoyed every week too.
It was fun.
Just as much fun as these kids seem to have. They laugh and cheer as he encourages them, his smile easy and genuine.
And Novalee is watching him.
It’s not only the way her eyes linger, tracing his every move, but it’s the micro expressions she can’t hide.
The faint lift at the corners of her mouth—a flicker of joy.
The slight furrow of her brow—a pang of longing.
And then, the barest tremble in her lower lip—a hint of heartbreak.
Fuck.
She’s hurting.
And it’s my fault.
I thought I’d be fine if Nicholas got hurt in the process of all this. Thought it was okay for the greater good. But I never considered Novalee would get caught in the crossfire.
Worse, I never thought I’d care.
But here I am, reading her like an open book, seeing her hurt, her want, her conflict, and every instinct in me is screaming to fix it to take it away and make it better.
We’re all in this mess because of me—I pushed her into it. Instead of… hell, I don’t know,talkingto Nicholas? No. That would’ve been insane. Easier to drag her into this, to manipulate the situation like it’s a game of chess.
Except now it feels like we’re all losing.
I take her hand, and she twitches in surprise but doesn’t pull away. I entwine our fingers, stroking the back of her hand with my thumb.
Her gaze shifts from Nicholas to me, and she smiles.
That smile.
I’m such a goner for this girl.
It’s not just the way her lips curve or eyes soften when she looks at me. It’s the way those things make my chest tingle, my pulse race, and my entire goddamn world tilt in her direction.
And I hate it.
Not the feeling. Never the feeling.
I hate that I can’t spend every waking second with my lips on her skin, with my teeth in her thighs, pulling those sweet sounds from her that make me feel invincible.
But this show. Thisshow. It has to go off perfectly.
If it does?
Fuck.Between her thighs, somewhere in Italy, that’s all I’ll be. That’s all I want to be. And if that doesn’t sound like the perfect escape plan, I don’t know what does.
And I’m fine to share that space between said thighs with Nicholas if that stops her from hurting so much.
Fuck, that could be hot.
As if she’s reading my dirty thoughts right off the tip of my nose, her eyes narrow, and she glares playfully at me. “What?”
