Break Me (Brayshaw, #5)

by Meagan Brandy

This is definitely when I should snap out of my shock and scream, kick and fight, and go full Karate Kid on his ass, but all I can think of is oh. My. Shit. A Brayshaw just kidnapped me. And I straight-up let him.

The guy who slipped onto campus and went all Damon Salvatore, started whooping on people because of me is a stranger to me?

Because while the sun and the moon light our lives with a single glance, to feel that light is rare, and something that can’t be robbed from you before it should. Because a feeling comes from the inside, not the out.

“What, you wanted a vanilla shake?” He raises a brash brow. “I don’t like vanilla.” “Me either,” he says loudly. I flick my eyes to the sky. “I swear, you’re like... a pizza pocket. Hot on the outside, so you start eating it, but if you don’t get the timing just right, you find out it’s cold in the middle.”

Don’t underestimate what you don’t know, and once you do, tear it to pieces or tip your fuckin’ hat.