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“She’s still mad,” Memphis murmurs. “I don’t think she’s mad at all. I think she’s hurt. She wouldn’t even look at me.” “Shit. I think that’s worse,” he admits. I think he’s right.
“Stop!” Waylynn freezes for half a second, and then she does something she told me she never does—she actually runs.
“But nothing, Waylynn. I’m trying to let you get comfortable so I know I’m not forcing you to do something you don’t want, but I need you to understand. You’re already ours, whether you get that or not.”
“You can’t have both. I won’t be in that class and be…around you guys. If I decide to…let you be around.” Her brows furrow deeply. She’s fucking adorable, acting like she has a choice.
“Yes, you do, and that’s all it takes for you to crack Memphis’ composed exterior. But don’t kid yourself, he loves it every single time. Remember that if you ever want something,” the traitor divulges while kissing the side of her neck tenderly. He’s right about that too—one look, and I would probably give her anything she asked for, unless it would keep her away from me.
“Good fucking girl,” Memphis rumbles before crashing his mouth down onto mine.
“You know how much I hate being left out.” Bates turns his attention to Memphis. “My only question is, am I too late?”
My lips dip down to the top of her head, and I realize Bates was right—I do love her.
