Beneath the Hood (Sugarlake, #3)

by Emily McIntire

You learn a lot about a person from paying attention to what they don’t say. And Blakely Donahue doesn’t say a lot. I wonder if anyone has ever listened to her silence.

Because Jackson is looking at me. And he’s not running the other way. Not telling me to change or to make sure I clean up. Not listing off all the ways we’re going to adjust the “unedited” version of me the world gets to see.

“Do you know what I love about you?”

“Let me show you.”

“Every time you speak, the world quiets so I can listen.”

“I love your eyes,” he continues. “The way they show me all your truths. No one has ever consumed me with a single look, but you…” He blows out a breath. “You fucking wreck me.”

“I love your heart,” he whispers. “I would spend the rest of my life worshiping at your feet so long as I got to experience every beat.”

“Your worth has nothing to do with how you look, Blake. It has to do with who you are. That’s what makes you beautiful.”