Always (Indigo Falls #1)

by Loren Leigh

“I let you into things,” he says quietly, but firmly. “I’ve texted you fifty-six photos. I also took you to the willow.” I draw in a breath. “Was the tree that important to you?” “I’ve never brought anyone there before.” He leans back farther, crossing his ankles, his legs long and lean. And my stupid dick twitches against my stupid zipper, shooting little sparks up to my stupid stomach. There’s too damn much going on in my head. Frustration. Desire. It all twists together into a funnel cloud of confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me the willow was that important to you?” I dig my hands into my hair, tightness binding in my chest, pulse thumping. “That was before we even kissed,” he says evenly. “I didn’t know if you would even care that it was important to me.” “Of course I fucking care,” I shoot at him. “I’ve cared for fifteen years, Kepler. And after all that time, I don’t even know where you live. I’ve got no clue about your parents or where you live or anything. It’s like you’re conjured out of starlight.” His eyes darken to molten gray. “Why does it matter what the walls around me look like? What kind of vehicle I drive? All of that is material. Just packaging that doesn’t—‍” “Because I need this to mean something.”