Page 45 of Fabricated

“Excuse me?”

“You’re possessive and irrational because you care about me.”

He snorts. “Maybe. All I know is, since you walked into my life, my perfectly constructed walls are crashing, and I can’t get you out of my mind. My need to consume, possess, and protect you is animalistic, and I can’t turn it the fuck off.”

I wrap my hand around his free one, bringing it to my lips and laying light kisses on each knuckle.

“I’m not sorry about yesterday,” he states as if needing to save his ego from oversharing. “I don’t want to share you with anyone. My hands ached to be covered in blood when he looked at you as if you were something he could have. Should have carved my name somewhere more visible,” he mumbles the last part.

“Just say I’m your girlfriend already.” I sigh dramatically.

“I thought that was fucking obvious?”

My heart stops. I was only teasing. Not completely hating what we have, but also not understanding it. I was simple and needed a label to understand dynamics. Everything we did screams I’m his, but… Biting my bottom lip, I look over at his face. His lips are in a perfect frown as the curve of his brow is furrowed.

“To me, yes, but maybe not to everyone else,” I whisper softly.

“We’ll just have to change that then.” He pulls my hand back over to his mouth, sucking my pointer finger between his lush lips as he bites down on it, then eases the pain with his tongue.

“When we get home, go get dressed.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Normal people date. Ever been on one, Darling?”

I shake my head and he grins. “Good.”

He kisses my wrist sinfully as we pull into the driveway. The first strike of the match has been lit. Now it is time to burn. Because Branson and I were crafted for one another, but our worlds would never collide. This is all one beautiful nightmare I will soon wake up from.

Chapter 18

@BransonLexington: “You couldn’t have sculpted anyone more perfect for me.”

Branson

I watch as she descends down the stairs. Watching how her long blonde hair sprinkled with strawberry falls into loose waves behind her shoulders. The arch of her brow, the small curve of her nose highlighted by the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge. The pout of her lips painted in a nude pink, the way her doe eyes sparkle like a frozen lake behind her thick, curved lashes. Green silk swoops at the neckline, giving me a peek at her perky breasts. Olive green wraps and stretches around her soft curves, falling to her feet.

At this very moment, everything falls away. The people, the cameras, the fact that this moment isn’t our own but everyone’s who watches the show. I never thought too much about the cameras filming my every move, but tonight I wish it would all fall away. That I didn’t have to share this moment with so many people. Share her with so many people.

Her lips curl into a shy smile as her cheeks flush with warmth. I don’t deserve her, but she’s so fucking perfect I can’t seem to stop myself. Even if I had a choice, her aura would pull me in. As if she’s the sun and I’m helpless to her gravitational pull.

When she reaches me, I bend, lowering my lips to her neck. It isn’t normal, the gesture, but when it came to her, neither was I. She is constantly wrecking my insides, not accepting the generic version of myself I offered to her. No, she pulled until my monsters were purring at her feet. She danced with my demons, loved them as if they were stray kittens who needed a home. I wanted to be a gentleman, hide my darkest parts, my sinister desires, but once I tasted her, I couldn’t control myself. The inky pools of my soul peeked out and liked what they saw.

She places her arm through mine as we walk to the front door, cameras following us like shadows. I parked my Jeep around the front earlier. I own many cars but my Jeep is the most unrecognizable out of all of them. It doesn’t scream the rich and famous lies hiding behind these tinted windows. Plus, it has a back seat, and I have to put up with the cameraman who would be in the car with us. No matter how much I tried to bargain, bribe, or threaten them, I couldn’t get them to not come on our first date.

Opening the door, I help Rayne buckle her seatbelt. “I may not know how to drive, but I do know how to buckle my own seatbelt,” she mumbles.

Pausing, I look at her. “You can’t drive?”

She shakes her head, her strawberry hair brushing her shoulders. “Never had a need to. And I couldn’t afford a car anyways. I just walked or took a bus.” She shrugs like it’s nothing.

But it was. Her delicate feet should never have to endure the harsh miles of walking to work or school, wherever the fuck she went. “Do you want to learn?”

In this world, you didn’t need to know, there would always be a chopper at your beck and call, but freedom was a beautiful thing.

She pounders that question as I close the door, walking around and climbing behind the wheel, before starting the engine and heading out.

“I think I'd like to learn. After all, once I’m done with this show, I will have enough for a car.”

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