Make Your Move (Hannaford Prep, #2)

by J. Bree

loving memory of my Gran - For telling 17-year-old me I'd need less blankets on my bed if I found a good man to cover me instead. I love you and I miss you.

I want a mobster’s son with the face of an angel and the rap sheet of a street kid. I want the singer with a soft heart wrapped in barbs and trip wires of devastating wit to keep it safe. I want the billionaire’s unwanted son with eyes of ice and an endless love for his sister.

Again, I adore this girl so fiercely I wish I were a lesbian and I could lock this shit down. Alas, I like dick.

“I don't accept bribes from rich playboys. Only favors.”

“It was a thank you, Mounty. Jesus, I wasn’t bribing you.”

It's only in the black light that you can see the ink that covers me. The skeletal structure I've had tattooed to my skin, the jaw opening wide etched in my cheeks with vicious teeth. Every inch of my body is covered in the whorls and arches that imitate the pelt. The black light shows that underneath the human facade I wear the truth of who I am. The Wolf.

I try to file that away in my brain for later but I think I’ve lost the filing cabinet. I think the office is closed for maintenance. I hope they repaint.

“If you're trying to warn us off, it's not going to work. We've never agreed to anything as quickly as when we agreed to share you. I'm not planning on wooing you, I'm planning on doing whatever I need to do to get to keep you.” I swallow and he licks his lips. “I want us to keep you. I don't want you all to myself, I want to share you with my best friends and I want you to love every fucking second of it.”