Page 35 of North

“Don’t get used to it,” I said with a smirk, settling beside her. “You were a lot of work last night. Figured you earned it.”

Her cheeks turned crimson, and she looked down, biting her lip to hide a smile. It hit me harder than I wanted to admit, the way she softened at something so simple. “Toast and jam,” I added, pushing the plate toward her. “You like strawberries, right?”

She nodded, her eyes wide. “I do,” she murmured, almost shyly. “Thank you.”

I watched her eat, the way she took small, delicate bites, her fingers brushing the edge of the plate. It was such a simple, ordinary moment, and yet it felt significant. Too significant.

After breakfast, I convinced her to stay in bed with me. It wasn’t hard.

She laughed when I suggested it, her defenses crumbling under my teasing. We spent the morning wrapped in blankets, her picking movies and me pretending to care about anything else other than the way she fit against me.

She let me touch her under the guise of affection—my hand on her thigh, my lips brushing her temple. She melted into it, into me, and I hated how easy it was.

“You’re too trusting, rabbit,” I murmured at one point, my voice low. Felt like shit, but I had to say something.

She looked up at me, her hazel eyes wide and unguarded. “Maybe I just trust you.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

By the time evening rolled around, she was asleep again, her head on my chest, her fingers tangled in my shirt. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon through the curtains.

I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts a chaotic mess.

I’d gotten her right where I wanted her—completely dependent on me, completely trusting. And yet, the idea of following through on Vic and Connor’s plan made my stomach churn.

She stirred against me, mumbling something in her sleep, and I tightened my hold on her without thinking.

What the fuck was I doing?

The question echoed in my mind, relentless and unforgiving.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have an answer.

Chapter 12

Quinn

The day started off warm. A little too warm. Not in the way the sunlight poured through the curtains or the way the sheets clung to my skin, but in the way North's arm draped over me, heavy and secure like he belonged there. Like I belonged there, in his bed.

For a moment, I let myself pretend it was okay. That what we had—what we’d been doing for the past week since he took my virginity—wasn’t wrong. But reality had a way of interrupting, and that morning it started when his phone rang.

The sharp buzz broke the illusion, and I froze as he stirred beside me, groaning in irritation. His arm slipped away, and the warmth I’d allowed myself to feel was replaced by a cold emptiness.

Warning bells blared in my head.

“It’s Dad,” he muttered, sitting up and running a hand over his mouth. His voice was laced with annoyance as he answered. “Yeah?”

I should’ve known it wouldn’t have lasted. But I stayed quiet, my pulse quickening as I strained to hear the faint voice on the other end of the line. Mark’s tone was calm, casual—too casual, or maybe that was just the guilt I felt after everything.

“How are things going? Need anything? Everything alright with Quinn?”

North’s jaw tightened, his free hand wiping his mouth again. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was his tell. “We’re fine. No, we don’t need anything. Yeah, she’s fine.” The words were clipped, each one colder than the last.

I felt a wave of anxiety crash over me. If he knew… if anyone knew… My stomach twisted painfully at the thought. They’d call me a slut, and that probably wouldn’t even be the worst of what people would come up with when they found out.

I was sleeping with my step-brother.

The weight of what North and I had done the night before—the nights before—settled heavily on my chest. It was so easy to forget when it was just us.

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