Page 125 of Striking Range

“Mhm.”

He chuckles quietly, laying his hand flat over my stomach. “Good. Now wake up; I’ve been waiting.”

“Waiting?” I murmur, rolling my head to the side so I can see him and not just his hands.

Sleepy Everett is one of my people to look at. His blond hair is matted in areas, his skin soft and glowing. His eyes are hooded, his body a furnace as he slips an arm under me and pulls, pressing me into his chest.

And he smells so good; like sleep and peace and him. I believe I could bathe in his sweat and love every second of it.

I curl into him, stealing his heat as my face burrows into the crook of his neck. “Morning.”

“Are you in any pain, Sky?” His words land gently against my hair, his hand rubbing at my back as our bare skin connects.

We are melting into each other, becoming this singular beautiful thing in the light of the morning sun. I want to live inside of him—I want the proof of his affection written all over me, right here in this little world we’ve cultivated.

I—wait. Pain?

Suddenly, my knuckles ache. It’s a dull, throbbing pain until I flex my fingers and a sharp sting bombards the nerves. I raise a hand, lifting my head to take them in. They’re bruised and split, cracking in the dry areas and distracting me with their pulse.

My eyelids flutter closed once more, and behind them, I am at Everett’s childhood home. I’m staring into the eyes of the man who spent years molding him with hatred and threats.

In my memories, I am slamming my fists against his skin, watching as it splits and separates just for me. I’m feeling the joy of inflicting the pain he dealt to Everett, returning it to him sweetly. I am basking in the relief that little version of myself feels every time it’s set free.

Our plan worked; Everett is free, and I am completely exposed. Right there in front of him, I morphed into the ugliest side of myself, poised and ready to drown in my own destruction, and yet…

“Even right now, I still love you so much.” His words echo through me, touching all the sensitive parts of my soul.

My eyes open and find his—the honey warm and sugary as he peers back, so full of affection.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” I say quietly.

“I’m obsessed with seeing all sides of your brain, Sky. No need to apologize.”

It’s a lovely sentiment, but I’m not sure how true it really is. Does he fully understand that it’s not just the anger that lives inside of me, but the greed and the jealousy and the borderline narcissism?

Will he still feel this way if I hurt him? If he begins to see what Jacob saw?

“Everett,” I start, my eyes dropping to trace the outline of his collarbones, “I should warn you… I’m not as good as you think I am.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Everett interjects, a grin shaping his lips. “I don’t think you’re that good.”

“You… you don’t?” For some reason, this comforts me.

“Nope. I think you’re a very complex person, half sweet and so precious, and half vicious and malicious. I think the darker parts of you are just as important to your heart as the gentle ones.” He cups the side of my face, pressing his forehead to mine. “I know you’re not an angel, Sky. But it doesn’t matter to me. If your love is poisonous, I’ll happily die in your arms.”

“Evie,” I breathe out, my parted lips catching his every exhale.

“I know we’ve kept a lot of secrets from each other over the years, but none of this feels that new to me. I think, deep down, I always knew you were kind of dangerous.”

“Viper,” I whisper, resisting the urge to laugh.

He presses a quick, chaste kiss to my lips. “Yes, Sky. My little viper, my sweet puppy. No matter which version of your soul you show me, I will hold it regardless.”

“Fuck me.” The words are rushed, leaving me on a desperate exhale.

I need him. I need him so badly that I can feel no embarrassment. My body is aching.

Everett’s grin morphs into a smirk, his arm tightening around me. “Can I? Can I stretch you open and push my way inside of you? Are you going to be good?”