Renna Rose Lancaster never searched for love.
She stumbled into it long before she was old enough to know what to call it.
It lived inside flower crowns that barely survived a minute on his head. Pebbles he slipped into her pockets because every tre...
"I want you inside my mind, smothering my thoughts, and indulging in my dreams.
I want you inside my heart, dancing within my ventricles, and flowing through my affections.
I want you in places the most gifted surgeons would never gamble to dissect.
And
I want you, All over me, All the time."
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The door slammed shut behind me like it had been waiting all morning for the honour. One sharp bang and the heat, the noise, her watery-eyed bullshit, all of it got sealed back inside while Glasgow hit me full force.
Grey sky. Wet pavement. Wind nasty enough to qualify as assault.
And right where I knew he’d be, parked against my bike like a squatter with confidence issues, stood Cameron Alasdair Eriksen. He had one boot crossed over the other. Hood up. Arms folded. Looking like every Scottish delinquent warning poster rolled into one smug bastard.
"There is my charming prince,” he drawled. “Took your sweet fucking time. Thought she'd glued you to the chair with her tears."
I stopped in front of him, shoving my hands deep into my pockets.
"It's over," I stated.
His eyebrows lifted. "Over as in over, or over as in you'll be naked with her before midnight letting her choke on your rod again?"
"Over means over," I repeated.
He chewed that over. Literally. With the gum snapping loud inside his mouth.
"You're saying that like you mean it," he said, skeptical.
"I do mean it."
He pushed himself off the bike. “Swear it.”
"Fuck off."
"On your future medical licence."
"That's low."
"On your dick, then."
"Get fucked."
"Tempting, but I've standards. Low ones, but still." His eyes flicked past me, towards the window glowing warm behind glass. "She's got her pal in there rubbing her back like she's mid-exorcism. Proper coven forming. If you hear chanting, run."
