Page 35 of Fabricated

“You okay?” he asks, searching my face.

“I will be,” I whisper, my arms going around his

neck. Pulling him closer to me.

“I’m glad you’re not like the rest of us.”

Our noses brush. My heart hammers against my chest as I register his words. Our lips connect as he envelops me into a heated kiss that I feel in my toes. We stay in the rain for a long time. Our limbs and lips entangle together until our skin reassembles raisins and Branson reluctantly tells me to go inside.

Chapter 15

@RayneMarshall: “To give pieces of yourself was to make yourself vulnerable. Be careful who you trust with your pieces.”

Rayne

Black lace wraps around my chest, flaring out into ruffles around my hips. Dark smoky eyes and deep blood-red lipstick adorn my face. My eyes look electrifying. Probably the most makeup I’d ever worn in my life. I look… different but familiar. Like… it didn’t matter. It wasn’t possible. I strap my phone to my thigh where a garter is. I take a deep breath. Trying to shake my nerves. I’m not nervous about this special club we are going to. That is whatever. Who cares if I’m going to a secret party with the most elite people in the world? No pressure.

Branson asked me to be his date. I had wanted to say no. But I knew I had to get out of my room and start living again eventually. Had to get over the fact that I’ll never find out who my parents are.

It’s a hard reality to swallow but I should have known that would happen. Life has never been fair to me. Why would it start now?

I open my door, turning to close it. Locking it, I check the handle to make sure.

Not that it did me any good before. If someone wanted to, they obviously could get in. I think it has something to do with my PTSD. I have to lock the door, or I can’t go to sleep at night. Can’t enjoy my day.

Locked doors don’t keep bad things out but the illusion of privacy keeps the mind quiet.

A hand grips the back of my neck and I jump before the familiar scent that is completely Branson Lexington wraps around me like a safety net.

“Darling, you look fucking edible,” he whispers in my ear. My eyes shut as a shudder rolls through me.

“How can you be so sure? You’ve only seen the back,” I say, opening my eyes to stare at my door. Since he hasn’t released me.

“Well, I’d eat your ass. Good enough for me.”

I snort, “Jerk.”

He chuckles, releasing me.

I turn around, my mouth drying.

It’s tailored to every masculine curve of his body. Black suit. A white pressed shirt under the jacket, first three buttons undone showing a glimpse of his Cuban chain.

His rings clutch around his fingers proudly. A watch sits perfectly on his left wrist.

His hair is in a perfectly styled mess.

“Wow,” I whisper. My finger trailing over the sharp curve of his jaw.

He snaps his teeth at it, and I giggle, pulling back.

His eyes narrow slightly as he smirks. “Let’s go, Rayne, Darling. We have some things to discuss.”

* * *

Limos are definitely not hyped up.

Yeah, this one is small, but it was just Branson and me.

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