Fractured Things (Folkestone Sins Book 2) by Samantha Lovelock

Author:Samantha Lovelock [Lovelock, Samantha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Stella’s breathing slips quickly into the rhythm of sleep. My brain hasn’t fully processed the words she whispered on the brink of slumber, but my body’s reaction was instantaneous—the breath caught in my throat, my heart slammed wildly against my ribcage, and damn if I didn’t get hard again. I’m afraid to move, afraid to breathe, in case I wake her up and she changes her mind. She’ll change it soon enough, and I need to feel this right now, this sensation that’s so new and scary and heartbreaking to me.

If I’m completely honest with myself, I think I’ve been in love with her since I saw her dancing in the Aud with Sunday. People say things like love at first sight aren’t possible, but I think those people are unimaginative and full of shit. The heart wants what it wants, and apparently, there are times that shit is pretty instant. Hell, I’ll believe in aliens and ghosts and that Jimmy Hoffa and Elvis Presley are still alive if it means I can hold onto this a little longer. The thought of her ripping away the words that nobody outside of my father and my friends have ever said to me makes me feel physically ill.

Every part of Stella Bradleigh was made for me.

The way her body responds to mine.

The shadows that hide within and tint her edges with darkness.

Her savage loyalty.

Her spirit that life keeps kicking in the teeth but refuses to be beaten.

The next kick is coming straight from you, fuckface, and there’s a good chance she won’t be able to get back up after this one.

Tears fill my eyes, and knowing when she finds out what I’ve done, I’ll never hold her like this again, the arm I have slung over her waist tightens and pulls her naked body closer to mine. If this is all the time we have together, there’s no way I’m wasting time on sleep, so I spend the next two hours committing every detail of her to memory. The gentle curve of her hip, the way her sooty lashes lay in contrast to her pale skin, the feel of her silky coal-black hair against my cheek, her delicate scent that will haunt me every time I close my eyes.

When she wakes up, I have to tell her the truth.

She’s going to hate me, and I’m going to lose her.

And there’s nothing I can do about it.

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