Deception. Betrayal. Mistrust.
It seems the closer Rayne gets to the truth, the more she finds herself wanting to run away from it. It's complex and terrifying-more than she ever fathomed.
New family members, good and bad, pop out at her like a br...
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𝗦omething smelled good.
Toothbrush still in hand, mouth filled with foam, Jase walked down the small rustic hallway of his country-styled home and headed toward the kitchen. The sound of smooth violins and pianos blissed his eardrums the closer he inched to his destination.
Bacon and sugar wafted through his nostrils, rumbling his newly awakened stomach. He rounded the corner, stopping just at the cusp of the threshold as he took in the sight before him. Hips sashaying, swaying to the glorified pulls of musical bows, he watched Franki dance while scrambling up a few eggs in a glass bowl.
Her hums magnified the beats in his chest as he leaned against the frame, haphazardly brushing his teeth—having all of his focus on the most beautiful girl in the world. Her long, black hair framed her spine delicately as each piece curled alongside that gloriously tan skin hidden beneath the thinness of her tank top.
A grin tugged on his lips as she spun around, so engulfed in her own little world that when her dark eyes landed upon his bright ones, she jumped in place, flinging her ingredients in the air. The concentrated yellow fluid landed with an inaudible splat on her head.
"Jase Ramiréz!" she yelled, tossing the bowl on the counter.
"Yes, my pretty girl?"
"Look what you made me do!"
With a snort, he peeled himself from the doorway and approached her, not hesitating to run his hands through the goop, picking it up just to plop it on his own head. Franki's eyes widened with surprise, but soon liquified into soft iridescent at their shared humiliation.
Jase latched his hands to her hips, pulling her in at the same time he lowered his head, hoping to catch a taste of those sweet lips of hers, despite his minty mouth. Franki seemed to notice his current predicament because, with a screech and a half-trying push, she attempted to run away from him.
Instead, she was given a frothy mustache.
"Rinse, you idiot!" she swatted his arm.
Laughing, but doing as she asked, he didn't return to her until his mouth was clean and his toothbrush was secured in its holder. This time when he grabbed her, he didn't give her a chance to escape him because he pressed a kiss to her lips, sighing in relief at the soothed addiction he found within them.
Francesca was a drug—and each time she gave into him, his tolerance built until he was so far pressed under her thumb, he knew he couldn't survive without her breath tangling with his.
"What're you doing up so early?" he asked.
"Making breakfast, what does it look like?"
"Yes," he chuckled, "But why?—it's five a.m."
"I couldn't sleep."
Jase withdrew back enough to catch her subconscious hand movements. An open palm spread across the barely noticeable bump at the bottom of her abdomen.
