Break by Mila Crawford

Author:Mila Crawford [Crawford, Mila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-06-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Dashiell

I have never felt more connected to another human being than I do at this moment. With Sam’s head on my shoulder and our breathlessness and the kinetic hum that buzzes through our bodies, I’m moved beyond words. We’re those two hungry souls that came together over an identical need when we were young.

I almost forget how everything has changed until I hear Lance the douchebot’s voice break the soft sound of our breathing.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” I growl at Sam.

She looks taken aback and pulls back from my embrace. “I don’t fucking know. Why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s not my keeper, and neither are you.”

I can’t believe that Lance showed up here on his own. He can’t be that in tune with Sam’s schedule unless she’s fucking telling him.

The asshole walks into the studio in his street shoes, hands on his hips. It’s all I can do not to clock him for the fake-ass sympathy display for Taye’s benefit.

“Are you okay, Natayla? Need me to tell this guy to lay off? I can give you a ride. My car’s right out front,” he tells her, puppy dog eyes and all.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say under my breath.

“Guess the magic stops with the music,” Sam says.

I hate her for recognizing that there are more forces pulling us apart than there are putting us together.

In a moment of unencumbered rage and passion, I grab Sam, yank her to me, and kiss her ruthlessly in front of Lance, staking my claim. Natayla, every ounce of her belongs to me and not this shit for brains who’s looking to capitalize off of her talent and fame.

Sam kisses me back but with her hands firmly braced against my chest, pushing me in the opposite direction. The kiss is angry and vindictive, but that doesn’t make it any less scorching. My cock surges in my pants when I remember her unique taste.

“Dashiell, stop!” she says. Like a moan of longing into my mouth. She wants me to stop like I want a hole in my head. “Stop, I’m serious. We partner together but don’t go real life with your feelings, please,” she pleads.

Of all the shitty things to say. As if she isn’t as invested in our chemistry as I am. As if it doesn’t translate away from the dance floor. She knows it does. Our connection is even more intense when we’re touching through desire and without the pretense of choreography.

“Fuck you, Tayla. You’re as shallow as him and your bitch mother.” I grab her face when she pulls away from the kiss and hold her cheeks with my thumb and forefinger, squeezing until I know it hurts. “You mean nothing to me. And you never will again. I’ll quit the Studio Company to avoid you and your fucked up family. Go home with your boyfriend. You two deserve each other.”

Natayla bursts into tears, grabs her things, and runs from the studio. Probably right into douchebot’s arms, but I don’t bother to watch.

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