Hothouse Flower (Calloway Sisters)

Her face brightens to the hundredth degree. And I skim the scar that pulls her cheek, rising from her jaw to her temple.

She watches as my gaze dances over the old wound. “Am I the beast to your beauty now?” she asks, her eyes glimmering.

I shake my head. “No, sweetheart, we’re both fucking beasts.” I’ll show you in a second.

The ink on her skin forms a dream catcher, with three feathers.

But along the frame is a small design of a wolf, protecting all of her restless and wild fucking dreams from the bad.

I love the tattoo. I love her. I love this

glance down. My nipples are totally hard, and the thin white shirt is see-through. The words printed right below say: Taken.

He shrugs off his leather jacket, his intense gaze still pinned on my boobs, and my chest rises and falls heavier than before.

“Didn’t you hear?” I ask, watching him watch me. “I’m taken.”

“I heard,” Ryke says, scooping me in his arms and wrapping the jacket around my shoulders. His eyes meet mine. “I also heard that he’s the only one who can keep up with you.”