Beneath the Surface (Sugarlake, #4)

by Emily McIntire

He cups my jaw, his thumb brushing against my bottom lip. “This mouth looks pretty when it tells me lies.” His other hand leaves the cabinet, his fingers sweeping across the corner of my eye. “But your eyes show the truth.”

His lips move from my cheek until they’re resting just above my lips. “I don’t enjoy kissing. It’s never been my thing.” My stomach jumps into my throat, my knuckles tight from where I’m gripping the counter. “But I swear to God, I’d let the world burn if it meant I could taste your lips.”

Alex kisses me like he’s reaching inside my chest and stealing my breath for his own. Like he’d let the world burn, if only I’d ask him for the ashes.

I paste a smile on my face. “It’s fine, Alex.” His nostrils flare. “No.” No? “Don’t you do that with me, little bird. You stay with me when you’re with me.” But it’s too late. I’m already gone.

She loves me. And with those words I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I want to have a life with her. I will never find another love like Lily. She’s my person. My little bird. And I’ll do everything I can to help her find her song.

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

So, instead of causing more grief, I back away, straddle my bike and fire it up. And I ride away from the best thing that’s ever happened to me, terrified that she’ll never happen again.

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

And happiness is a funny thing. When one person has it, it spreads like ivy, winding its way around everyone else; if only they let it grow.