Burning Daylight (Defying the Stars, #1)

by Emily McIntire

“Then don’t be a cunt.” My father chuckles. “You know what they say—you are what you eat. How is your wife, by the way?”

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.” I purse my lips, thrown by the response. “That’s oddly profound.” He nods solemnly, his hand to his chest. “Winnie the Pooh said that.”

“Of course he did.” I laugh. “Leave it to a stuffed bear to make you sound enlightened.” “There it is.” He grins. “That mean streak of yours. Still incredibly hot, by the way.”

“God, you’re like a lost puppy,” she mutters. My lips curve up, attraction flaring to life in my chest. Damn, she’s fun to rile up. She’s so wound tight and ready to snap. “Does that mean you’ll pet me if I’m a good boy?”

“I don’t normally do this, you know?” she says. The corner of my mouth lifts. “Good. I’m territorial.” “What’s that mean?” “It means you’re mine.”

“I like your voice.” He smiles. “It’d be a shame not to hear it.”

“Maybe you just didn’t see me.” He takes a slow sip of his coffee without looking away. “Impossible.” “Is it?” “There’s no world that exists where I wouldn’t see you.”

“It’s so strange,” I admit. “What is?” “Seeing your art and feeling like you’re painting pieces of my soul.”

“That sketchbook’s the east,” he whispers. “And you, Juliette, are the sun.”

“Because every time you smile,” I say, “every time you give me that little look like you can’t decide if you want to throttle me or kiss me, I want to keep you forever.”

“I’m so in love with you, I’ve forgotten how to exist without you,” I say. “I love you like I was made to love you. Like I came into this world just so you could carve out my heart and leave yourself inside it.”