Kiss the Sky (Addicted #3)(38)

“Didn’t your parents separate two years later?”

I nod. “But I think their marriage was already strained when she was pregnant. I rarely saw them together.”

“Do you think…?” She trails off, not able to say the words.

“That she cheated on him? That those weren’t his kids?” I shrug. “Maybe. But all of it is neither here nor there. It’s all just…gone.”

She exhales loudly. “That’s a lot to take in, Richard.”

“No one knows that except Frederick. I didn’t think it was important.”

“It is,” she says.

I still don’t see how, but somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I must have believed it was significant too or else I wouldn’t have shared it. “So you love your sisters the most?”

She runs her fingers through her shiny brown hair. “I can’t imagine loving anyone more than them.”

“You do realize that Lily loves Loren more than anyone else on the planet? If they were both given the ultimatum of oxygen or each other, I’m fairly certain they’d choose to suffocate.”

She contemplates this for a second, her brows scrunching in thought.

“I’m not asking you to love me,” I tell her. “I think we’re both smart enough to choose oxygen.” I don’t see how love could benefit me.

Her eyes fall and her lips downturn. After a full minute of silence, she says, “I’d choose to die if it meant my sisters could live. You think it’s stupid, but sometimes love is worth every foolish choice you make.” She hops off the counter. “Oh, and you’re my number three.”

“I beat Poppy already?” I fight a burgeoning smile.

“I see her less than I do you.”

I fit my arms around her waist. “Don’t ruin it,” I breathe, kissing her neck lightly. My hand lowers to the small of her back, and I leave her with one last kiss to the forehead that feels more genuine than all the others. “You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”

She glares. “And you ruined it with a quote from Pride and Prejudice.”

I grin. “What? I thought we were purposefully being cliché.”

“Maybe next time, quote the book and not the film.”

My eyebrow arches and I recite theatrically, “You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.” I shake my head. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it, darling.”

A laugh escapes her lips. “Go back to work. I’ll see you in the morning. Oh wait,” she feigns surprise, “it is the morning. I’ll see you when we cross paths again.” I watch her walk to the staircase, her lovely round ass bouncing against her silk robe.

“How can you be sure we will?” I ask before I return to my computer. She hypnotizes me, gluing me to this very spot.

She glances over her shoulder, her silky hair molding her beautiful face. “Because,” she says, “we always do.”





[ 14 ]

ROSE CALLOWAY



I didn’t go back to sleep. I decided to take a shower before the rest of the house wakes up. The bathroom is my hell. I think it’s the third or second circle. Scott Van Wright, a devil in disguise, stands firmly in the first.

A chest-high tiled wall barely separates one shower from the other. As though we need to high-five while we’re shampooing our hair.

I wash quickly, but I have a particular routine: scrub beneath my nails at least twice, rinse, shampoo, wash, condition, repeat. I’ve already finished with those steps. But I still have others to do.

I prop my foot near the hot-and-cold knob and shave my leg. I slow down to avoid cutting my ankle or knee.

And then the door swings open.

I drop my leg, warm water dousing me from the showerhead. Please be Connor.

I process that sudden realization—that I’d want it to be him, out of everyone, that’d I’d hope for it. Even if it would pull him away from his business project.

I hate that I’m attracted to a man who thinks love is nothing but a weakness. But I also adore that there’s no one else remotely like Connor Cobalt in the world.

And I’m the one who has him.

When I look back up, Scott is already halfway inside, heading to one of the sinks in the center. He barely acknowledges me, just turns on the faucet and starts brushing his teeth. I solidify to stone. And I only move to cover my chest with my arms, standing underneath the showerhead, as though the downpour of water will clothe me.

I should ignore him and just go back to shaving, but I can’t reawaken my taut muscles.

I shouldn’t watch him either, but I find myself scanning his features quickly. Messy dishwater blond hair, scruffy jaw, and reddened eyes from the early morning.

He spits into the sink, and his gaze meets mine as he wipes his mouth with a towel. “Yes?”

“I didn’t say anything.” My voice is not even a little kind. I don’t know how to defrost the ice that clings to each syllable, even if I wanted to.

“You’re staring.” This fact gives him permission to lower his gaze to the misted shower glass.

I don’t look away. I will not come across as a frightened bird.

“I wondered if you were a bush kind of girl. Now I know.” He tops it off with a half-smile.