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470 pages, Paperback
First published December 11, 2021
He didn’t let go. Just released a little, polite grunt, then moved a few inches away from her, yanked the condom off, and tossed it into the trash at the side of the desk.
He reached for a silver tissue box, wiping himself off—her privates shielding his—and tucking himself back in.
He was still staring at me.
Our eyes had never wavered from one another.
I bared my teeth. “I’m not a circus monkey.”
“No.” He drummed his long fingers over his desk. “They are trained. You are not.”
I truly, honestly wanted to hurt her for a reason unknown.( I know, 🙋🏼♀️ I do know the reason 🥺)
I took it, paid, and sauntered over to Charlie. Her leg was rocking again.
Always the right one.
Never the left.
I wondered how the hell I’d noticed that. Hannah got mad every time I’d failed to notice a new haircut, dress, or piece of jewelry.
“Did you fuck him?”
The question tore out of my mouth before I could stop it.
“Look, I’ve dated them old, and I’ve dated them young, and I can honestly say, nothing brings you back to life more than a young, attractive, fun—”
I whirled toward him sharply when I reached my bedroom door, seeing red. My eyes were dead as I hurled him against the wall. His back crashed into it so hard, a painting dropped to the floor, its frame cracking.
“You don’t know what you’re saying. I don’t want you to talk about her, think about her, or refer to her in any way. Am I understood?”His eyes widened.
He moved toward my lower body. “I’ll be very careful. The chances of your hymen being affected by this exam are absurdly low, so try to relax. Now spread your legs for me, Charlie.”
It wasn’t what he said but the way he said it that made my eyes snap to his in horror. He’d called me Charlie, and his voice was no longer taciturn. It had the faintest touch of a smoky, bossy tint.
In Kellan’s arms, I’d felt like I was wrapped by a thin film.
In Tate’s arms, it felt like nothing could touch me. Not even death.
Kellan watched me in amusement, producing another muffin from his bag. He threw it at me like I was a feral animal he needed to feed through bars.
It worked out fine for a while until reality hit him like Miley Cyrus’ wrecking ball. Turns out, when you chase attention, it bites you in the ass.
This time, in the form of a heavily mustached paparazzo.
“I hope I never fall in love. Falling in love makes you so dumb.”
He chose to be a loner. He dressed Goth at school. All black, safety pins everywhere, eyeliner, leopard patches, and painted nails. He once showed up at St. Paul with fishnets for gloves.
“Don’t jump,” I repeated, curling his fingers around my book.
They were icy, and I wondered how long he’d been up here, working his way toward death.
“Kinda hypocritical of you to say, everything considered.”
“My situation is different.”
“But the appointment…”
“I don’t take appointments today. Tell Ms. Rothschild to call me tomorrow.”
“You have to.” But I knew he didn’t, and that caused the panicked fly in the cobweb to make the mistake of thrashing uncontrollably, losing energy as the spider dove in for the kill. “I’ve waited here for over an hour.”
“I have no parents, money, or prospects. Hope is not really in my cards.”
“Just a sister who agreed to sacrifice.”
Tate Marchetti purged the loneliness from me.
He cured me.
I grinned. “You really are a doctor.”
Mainly, I felt glad for that Hannah chick he’d been about to marry several years ago. She’d dodged a deadly bullet.
Tears are the language of grief. And grief is the langauge of love.
I confirmed three things at once:
1 Charlie was Venom,
2 Kellan Marchetti had been deeply, madly, infuriatingly in love with Charlotte Richards. And…
3 He wasn’t the only one who had a weakness for the odd, eccentric beauty.
It must be painful sharing a heart with all that grief.
“Kellan had dreams, and goals, and desires. Things to live for. The kid made friends everywhere he went, wrote stories editors would drool over, ran home to Christie and me excited for the next day. His teachers all said he’d become something. Just a damn good kid all around. He used to have the brightest fucking future I’d ever seen, and I killed it. I killed him .”
It worked out fine for a while until reality hit him like Miley Cyrus’ wrecking ball. Turns out, when you chase attention, it bites you in the ass.
International suicide hotlines:
https://www.opencounseling.com/suicid...
What to do if you're having suicidal thoughts:
https://www.opencounseling.com/blog/w...
What to do if someone you know is having suicidal thoughts:
https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-c...
Suicidal warning signs:
https://www.bridgestorecovery.com/blo...
Audio book source: Audible
Story Rating: 4.5 stars
Narrators: Ava Erikson, Sebastian York & Jacob Morgan
Narration Rating: 5 stars
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Length: 15h 1m
Love is expensive.
Its currency is grief.
And sometimes, it costs more than you can afford.
One of her tan legs wrapped around his waist. The other extended over his shoulder. He was fully clothed in dark cigarette pants and a matching cashmere sweater that highlighted his insanely muscular physique.
He was also looking straight at me.
My eyes rolled over in their sockets. I slammed them shut. Every muscle in my body tensed and squeezed deliciously.
“Tate,” I whimpered.
“Dr. Marchetti.” His professional tone snapped me back to reality.
Too late.
“I’m… I’m…”
“Seems that way.”
Tate slid in the speculum, spreading the walls of my vagina. To my horror, the sensation was still very pleasant. In fact, a suction sound came from my greedy lady part.
I groaned in embarrassment, closing my eyes.
If I came again, I was divorcing my body.
“I wasn’t concerned about your sex life because you were a patient,” he said casually. “I’m concerned about it because I want to fuck your brains out until you lose the ability to walk straight. Unfortunately for me.”
'To those walking the edge of the roof, don’t do it.
And to those who make them, good luck surviving yourselves.'