Page 217 of Hide and Keep

More than anything.

Another confused shake of my head as I try to keep the truth in. “I can’t.”

“In private, in the rooms where it’s just us, you can. You’re a flyer. You always land on top, remember?”

“What about you? Where will you land?”

He shrugs. “No worse than where I started.”

No better either.

But whether we’re together or not, he still won’t be getting that million dollars.

“Say you want this. Say you want me.”

“You know I do,” I practically whisper.

“What was that?”

“You know I do,” I repeat slightly louder.

“I’m sorry?” He pretends like he can’t hear me. “What do you want?”

Oh, whatever.

I turn to leave but Crue catches me with an arm around my waist, growling, “Get your ass back here.”

He buries his face in my neck, smelling the skin there instead of kissing it. Somehow it turns me on even more than what that other guy was just doing.

“Tell me what I want to hear. What Ineedto hear. Speak it into existence, little bat.”

Someone’s been reading about manifestation.

I spin around to rip off that hat.

With a tilt of my head and a shrug of my shoulders, I admit, “You. I want you, Crue Brantley.”

His hands on my face again, he pulls me up onto my tiptoes. The urgency in his touch matches the words pouring from his mouth. “If all I have with you is three years, promise not to spend another second of it out of my sight.”

“I can’t make that promise.” Just like I can’t give him three years. Three weeks is best-case scenario.

“Then promise you won’t run away from me and into another man’s arms.”

That one I can make.

“I promise.”

It’s after midnight when we make it back to the manor. Parking out on the street, I carry Ever on my back up the long driveway, listening to her tell me about the different species of bats roosting on the property. Her breath on my neck has my skin in a constant pebbled state and I’m counting down the seconds until I can return the favor.

“As long as they stay out of my room,” I mutter.

“You must like bats at least a little bit, enough to get one tattooed on you.”

“I like one bat. She’s the exception.”

Ever chuckles. “You like me, Major?”

“Sometimes,” I answer honestly, making her laugh even harder.

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