Page 91 of Addicted

“You made this for me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Used one of your suits for sizing.”

His eyes flicked to me. “You went in my closet?”

“You had them niggas running up in my closet, didn’t you?” He chuckled and I continued, “I had to get it right.”

He gave a small nod, then took it off the hanger and put it on. My heart started racing. He adjusted the sleeves, rolled his shoulders, testing the fit. It sat on him perfectly. Like it belonged on him. Because it did.

He moved toward the mirror, studying himself quietly. Then his hand stilled. His fingers brushed the inside lining. He paused, just for a second. Then he pulled the jacket open slightly, looking inside. His eyes sharpened as he looked back at me.

“You put my name in this?” he asked, his voice lower now.

My stomach flipped, thinking about where I’d stitchedStoneinto it. I’d wanted to give it a personal touch.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He looked back at the jacket, running his thumb over the stitching like he needed to feel it again. I crossed my arms, suddenly feeling exposed.

“If you don’t like it, you can just say that,” I said. “It’s not a big deal—”

“Nah.” His voice cut right through mine. I stopped talking. He turned toward me. “This shit hard,” he said.

Relief hit me instantly.

“Yeah?” I asked, trying to play it off like he didn’t just make my whole day.

He stepped closer and reached out, tilting my chin up so I had to look at him.

“You really made this for me,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” I said softly.

Something shifted in his eyes. Something subtle, but real. His hand dropped from my chin to my waist, pulling me into him.

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured.

He leaned down and kissed me, slow at first. His hand tightened slightly at my waist as the kiss deepened. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine for a second.

“This my new favorite jacket,” he said, smirking.

I smiled. “You like it that much?”

“I love it,” he confirmed.

“Good,” I said. “You better.”

He laughed. “Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand. “Brady made dinner. Let’s eat.”

***

A week had passed since I gave Stone the custom jacket I’d made for him. A whole week of being stuck inside these walls again, and I was starting to lose my damn mind.

Don’t get me wrong, the estate was beautiful. Luxurious. Had everything I could possibly need. My design room, all the amenities a person could ever want.

But it was still a cage. A gilded cage, but a cage nonetheless.