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“Uh-huh,” I say, rubbing my hands up and down her arms and glaring at the guys over her shoulder. “Maybe you should put more clothes on, Kayla.” It sounds like a request.
I love him—like, love him. I want him to know that, but not yet. Because I need him to love me back—all of me. “Don’t hurt my heart, Jake,”
“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll never hurt you again, I promise.”
“I’m not the only one who’s looking at him, so why do you care?”
“Because he’s fucking mine!” I growl. “And if I so much as see you look at him again, the next thing you’ll be gawking at is my fist coming toward your face! Got it?”
“I’m so turned on right now,”
I’m going to be the luckiest asshole in the world when she finally lets me love her.
“Please, Kayla. Just give it until the new year. Promise me?”
“God, Jake, I more-than-a-lot like you.”
“Kayla, I passed that stage a long, long time ago.”
“Because if I kiss you, I’ll want to taste you. And if I taste you, I’ll need to fuck you. And when I fuck you, it means you’re mine. When I make you mine, I want it to be in our bed—not a hotel room . . . Is that okay?”
“You are so fucking loud, Kayla. Jesus, we need to work on that.”
“Whatever, Micky. Just choose so I can get some sleep. I’m tired as fuck.”
“Well, maybe I should, since that’s what your friends call you, right?”
“Well, if I’m not your boyfriend, and I’m not your friend, then what the fuck am I?” He’s yelling at me. “What the fuck am I to you, Mikayla? Tell me, please, because you sure as shit aren’t making it clear!”
“I love him, Logan,”
“Jake saw you at your worst. He was there when your life changed and your heart shattered. He was there to help you piece some of it back together. He’s seen it all, Micky. He’s seen you at your worst, and he still fell in love with you—like, truly the forever kind of love with you. And I’m sorry, because I think you’re making a mistake. Maybe you don’t need to be a complete person, or maybe you do. But maybe he’s it—maybe he’s the other half of you.”
“Start charging your fucking phone, Kayla. I’m sick of this shit,” he growls.
“Jesus, Kayla. I’ve missed you,”
“Jake, it’s been three days, not three years.”
