BooksBarbecue
Back For Ever
Chapters (63)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Map of the Willowhaven
  4. Map of Rosehill City
  5. Foreword
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. Epilogue
  62. Map of Rosehill City
  63. Also by Jenny Hickman

The realization gives me the courage to turn around and ask him one very important question: “Am I your business, Ever?”

After the briefest hesitation, he nods. The look in his eyes says I’m more.

I think…

Heaven help me, I think I want to be more.

To know this man inside and out. To learn what makes him smile and how to cook his favorite meal. To feel the press of his bare skin against mine. I want…

I want everything I shouldn’t.

Ever watches me with the same intensity that seems to live in his gaze. My heart beats double time as I continue to twist until I’m straddling his thighs. Ever’s toned chest rises and falls with each deep inhale, brushing against mine.

Slowly, I bring my hands to the necklace he wears, tracing the bones and teeth. Evidence of the violence that lives in this beautiful man only to realize I don’t want to touch his necklace.

I want to touch him.

“Kerris,” he whispers.

“Yes?”

“I lied.”

My hand stills. “About what?”

“I do not want to be your friend.”

“Why not?”

“Because friends should not want to do the things I long to do to you.”

No one has to know.

It’s just the two of us.

The darkness is made for such truths.

“What sort of things?” I dare to ask.

Strong hands anchor around my waist. “I long to touch you when no one is watching,” he whispers. “To mark you as mine.”

I’ve wanted the exact same thing since I first read about mating scars.

His voice drops even lower as his hands slide to my hips. Kneading. Insistent. “I yearn to taste your most secret places and feel your body shuddering around mine. To hear my name on your tongue when you shatter.”

Desire sparks like a flame in my blood, burning through me until I’m a pile of wanton ash. All those things… I want them just as much. No, I don’t want. I need.

“Ever…”

His hum is a delicious vibration in his throat.

Even knowing I would be a fool to give in, my fingers trail along his collarbone. I tell myself to say nothing. To put a stop to this before it’s too late.

If only I’d known it was too late the moment our eyes met across that square. “I don’t want to be your friend either.”

He raises one hand, his eyes wild as they search for any hint of discomfort as he trails a solitary fingertip along my own collarbone.

An even exchange.

A stolen touch for a stolen touch.

No. Not stolen.

Given freely.

I move my hands lower, to the cut in his chest, and press my palm to his heart. Slow. Steady. Strong. So unlike my own beating like a hummingbird’s wings.