The Worst Kind of Promise (Riverside Reapers #2)

by Celeste Briars

The guy I’m secretly in love with—the guy who looks at me like I’m his kid sister.

Kit races over to me and yanks me up by the arms, pulling me into his large chest. His grip suffocates me, but I don’t try to pull away. He’s mumbling something into my hair, his hand cradling the back of my head, the rapid thundering of his heart a steady medium in my ears.

He curses so loudly that it echoes in my ears, and he punches the steering wheel, rocking the entire car in the process. I’m surprised he doesn’t break anything. His ivory-colored fists are strained, and his arms twitch with an ungodly amount of tension. I think he’s going to lash out again, but all he does is inhale deeply.

“Look, Faye, when you called me…I’ve never been so afraid in my entire life. I was worried something bad had happened to you, and I was right. I need to know I’m keeping you safe, otherwise I’m going to lose my mind.”

Did I seriously just say that? Why did I say that? Why couldn’t I just tell her the truth? I want to be so much more than just friends.

Just being in her presence lures me to the edge of a steep cliff, baiting me to plunge into the roiling waves below, to let my body be flung every which way upon the soft chirp of her voice or the flick of her finger. She has a hold on me that she’ll never realize. A hold that, no matter how hard I fight against, is stronger than I am.

Faye’s the embodiment of everything pure in this world, like the furry, white heads of blooming dandelions swirling away in a summer breeze, or the way seafoam laps between your toes before dissolving into damp granules of sand.

Growing up, my parents never provided me with a model of what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. They fought all the time, rarely ever spent time together, constantly blamed one another for the most trivial things, and never showed any affection.

But this…crush…it’s been gnawing at me for four years. I haven’t been able to shake it.

Jesus. I want to hug her, touch her. I want to hold her in my arms and never let go.

Fuck the professionalism.

And don’t get me started on his endless, droolworthy tattoos. Those renowned tiger eyes on his forearm have given him his hockey nickname of “Big Cat,” and his reputation definitely precedes him.

HOT

This whole idea doesn’t even scream proceed with caution. It screams: TURN BACK NOW BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE.

“Just because you’re used to taking care of yourself doesn’t mean you should be. Accepting help isn’t a sign of weakness; it doesn’t diminish your strength or resilience. You’re stronger if you acknowledge you need help,”

“You’re so content with carrying all this weight on your shoulders. Now let me carry some of it for you.”

“When it’s fun sized and dangerously addictive like you, I am very afraid.”

“If you wanted me on my knees, Faye, all you had to do was ask,” I drawl, taking advantage of the proximity to ghost a knuckle along her jawline.

“I can’t! I’m so fucking hard right now that I can’t think straight. You do this to me. No other girl does, okay? All of the girls I’ve been with haven’t held a candle to you. You’re all I ever think about, and it kills me that I can’t have you.”

“Maybe a little, but it’s perfect. I want to take you to breakfast. At a real dining establishment that sells full-sized sausages instead of mini wieners.”

A gulp ripples down Kit’s throat. “I don’t. When I’m around you, I usually can’t find the courage to say anything. You…intimidate me.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I have two hands. Big hands. Hands big enough to handle a sweet little thing like you.”

“Princess, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Kit roughs his hair with his hand, the faintest groan catching in his throat. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous when you blush,” he says.

She needs to stop being so beautiful. God, this woman is like an itch I need to satisfy, a scratch that I can feel in the marrow of my bones. She’s unshakable.

And that’s when it hits me: Faye Hollings isn’t someone who drifts through your life. She’s someone who lingers, stays, and remains in your heart. And I think she’s carved her goddamn name on me.

“I’m not ‘super cool’ with just being friends, Faye. I fucking hate being your friend. You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to control myself around you—how hard it’s been not to jack off to the thought of you. Just the other night, I had a boner the size of Texas because you weren’t wearing any pants.”

Every guy on the team is looking at her right now. They shouldn’t be looking at her. In fact, they shouldn’t even be breathing the same air as her.

“I’ll always come back to you.”

I know corsets are hard to take off—that there’s a bunch of ties and shit—but at this rate, I’d snap the thing in two to get even the smallest glimpse of her flawless skin.

Shit. I should’ve stalled more. Dillied my dally.

I need to chill the fuck out. I need to jump into a cold lake. I need to be tranquilized. I need to jump into a cold lake while I’m tranquilized, and then slowly drown because that’ll be less painful.

I don’t condone ever making a girl cry. Unless she’s crying while you give her the best orgasm of her life.

“Stop talking.”

Yes sir

One small step for man, one giant leap for Kit-kind.

I watch and admire the way Faye lights up with excitement when she finds a book that piques her interest. She keeps handing them to me, and yeah, there might be a slight ache in my arms, but I’d carry enough books to fill up a library for her. When she finally decides that thirty-some-odd books are enough, I pay at the checkout, hefting each bag up my arm.

THIS is love

The corners of his lips tick up into a loving grin. “I’d annotate an entire library for you if it meant that I got to see you smile.”

He annotated a book for me. Kit Langley annotated a book for me. Kit Langley—the man who’s never been with the same woman twice—carved time out of his day to read a book and tab it. This has to be some kind of fever dream.

Oh, I’ll bite. Where I want. And as hard as I want.