Page 140 of Burning Daylight
He never drops my gaze as he brings them up to his mouth and licks them clean.
35
ROMAN
Ican taste her pussy on my tongue.
Well, almost.
It’s been half an hour since I fingered her against the tree, her sweet little moans in my ear and her perfect body under my hands, and I can’t stop staring at her.
She’s sitting at our picnic bench, a cool breeze caressing her face and hair like it loves her just as much as I think I do.
The thought hits me like a smack to the face, and my mouth dries.
There’s a blush permanently staining her cheeks, and every so often, she looks at me like she can’t believe what we just did.
Neither can I, to be honest.
“You’re staring,” she murmurs, not looking up from her notebook.
“You’re perfect,” I reply, resting my chin in my hand. I gave up on trying to do anything other than watch her about twenty minutes ago.
I was worried she’d regret what happened as soon as it was over, but I should know better than to think that about her. When Juliette Calloway decides something, she’s in it for good.In fact, it wasmewho stopped us from doing anything else, insisting that we should take a second and just breathe. I don’t need her to reciprocate; I just want to bask in this moment.
Up here. Just the two of us, where she feels like mine.
Frederick’s words play in my head like a bad omen. About taking love away to protect it.
But I’m not concerned aboutme. I don’t know her family dynamics well enough to trust that any of them would keep her safe if she made decisions they didn’t agree with. Every day, it feels like combining our worlds is more and more impossible.
So, I just want to soak this up for as long as I can, before everything goes to shit, and I have to tell her maybe she’s been right along. That we shouldn’t even see each other anymore.
Her brows are furrowed, and whenever she blinks, her lashes dust across the very tops of her cheeks. Her lips are swollen, a bit of red marring the edges from where my teeth sunk into them and claimed them for my own.
A hit of satisfaction runs through me at the sight, knowing I marked her as mine, at least this once.
Unfortunately, I think she’s marked my soul for good.
“My mother has a drug problem.”
The words fly out of me suddenly, and evenI’ma little surprised by them. I hadn’t decided until this very moment to share that with her. But I want to give her something of me, something almost nobody else knows.
Her pen pauses on the page, and she glances up at me. And then realization crashes through her, her eyes widening and her hand covering her mouth. “Oh my God, Trouble. Those things I said when we first met… I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine, baby.” I shake my head to stop her. “I’m just telling you so you know me… My entire life has been about keeping her head above water and dragging my sister along for the ride.”
She swallows heavily, laying down her pen and closing her notebook.
“Will you tell me about her?” she asks.
My chest cracks open, and that little box I keep deep inside—the one with the fortified locks—springs open, my trauma laying itself at her feet.
“Her favorite is oxy, but it’s hard to come by so she settles for heroin. She’s a mess. A manipulative shell of who she used to be, and I hate saying that because I want you to know that I love her. Despite what she does, the mistakes she makes… she was a good mom. And Iloveher.” I force out the words again like maybe if I say them twice, it will be enough to bring her back.
My chest pulls so tight I can barely take a breath, but I lick my lips, spin my ring, and nod.
“She met my father at an art show.Herart show, in California. Similar to the one where you saw mine for the first time, actually.”
