Page 10 of Make Us Yours
I take in a big whiff of her scent before pulling away slightly, my hand staying glued to her hip. When our eyes meet, I find hers searching mine.
“Are you okay?” she asks quietly with concern, as if we’re having a private conversation.
Her question startles me for a moment, like it does every time. She never asks where I was, what I was doing, or why I’m late. Instead, she asks if I’m okay. As if she can sense something’s off and worries about me.
And even when I lie and say, “Yeah, Kitten. I’m okay.” She doesn’t call me out on it; she sticks by my side until I finally believe the words myself.
I reluctantly remove my hand from her body and settle beside her against the counter. She takes the smallest step closer to me and bumps her shoulder into mine. Veronica is taller than the average woman, and with her four-inch stilettos, she stands almost as tall as I do at six-foot-two and a half.
That’s another thing I love about this woman. I’ve never really cared for short girls. I like being able to throw my arm around her shoulders properly and kiss her without having to lower myself like Silas does with Cecilia.
“You’re late again, Adler.” Clay appears in the kitchen, heading to the fridge to grab a beer.
“Yup,” I answer directly, not bothering to look at him. I can hear the judgment in his voice.
“Where were you?” He folds his arms over his chest, beer bottle still in hand.
My head snaps his way as I work my jaw. “Does it matter? I’m here now,” I bite out.
He frowns as his pale gray eyes assess me. Clay’s always been good at reading people. And I’m guessing whatever he reads off me tells him I’m not in the mood and that it’s none of his business where I was.
Finally, he nods, but before leaving and returning to his spot on the couch, his eyes flick to Veronica, then back to me. There’s a question in his gaze, but he doesn’t speak it as he exits the kitchen.
I’m guessing by now everyone knows about me and Gabe’s current situationinvolving Veronica. One I’m thankful no one has brought up yet, but I know we’ll have to discuss it by the end of the night. I need to convince her to stay. Not just in our home, but with me.
GABRIEL
“So, what’s the deal with you guys?” Greyson asks, pulling my attention away from watching my feisty Vixen.
She stands next to my best friend, their shoulders brushing up against each other. It irritates me that she doesn’t pull away, that she doesn’t push him off like she does with me. Although I think she may slowly be warming up to me as well.At least, I hope.
I don’t think I’ve ever craved someone quite like Ronnie. I can’t explain this desire I feel for her; it’s as if I was hit in the chest by a lightning bolt the moment she came into my life. Even all my conquests since then have greatly dulled. Of course, there’s still a lot of hooking up with bunnies, but I never feel satisfied by the end. Like something is missing, or someone. I don’t know what I’ll do if she never gives me a chance.
“Who?” I flick my gaze to his before turning it to the TV.
“You, Adler, and Ronnie?” He lifts a brow.
“Yeah, will she really be working for you two? Sorry, but I don’t see her wanting to spend more time with you guys.” Silas chuckles.
“She will,” I say undoubtedly.
“You sure about that?” Clay asks.
I deliver my best grin that charms people instantly.Well, except for my Vixen, apparently.“Don’t worry about it. We’ll convince her to stay on.” And finish with a wink.
Greyson scoffs. “If you plan on convincing her the same way you convince women to sleep with you, you’d better start looking for a replacement right away.”
I smile and lean back in the armchair. “Nah, you’ll see. With those chicks it never takes much convincing. We’ll bring out the big guns for Ronnie.” He doesn’t lookconvinced, none of them do, but I know we’ll win her over.
“If you say so,” Clay answers, ending the conversation.
My gaze returns to my dream girl as I try to think of a way to keep her with us. All my attempts up to now have been futile. She’s a hard one to crack. I can’t figure her out, no matter how hard I try, but I find myself wanting to know everything about her.
If she has any birthmarks along her body or maybe scars? What her feet look like bare. Does she match the nail polish on her toes to the color of her hair? What makes her nose wrinkle up in distaste? What does a real laugh falling from her lips sound like? Because the ones she gives us aren’t real, they’re all fake. I would know; I deliver them daily.
Sometimes when I watch her, which happens a lot, I notice the small little ticks she has. Whether it’s to certain words, loud noises, or people getting too close, her shoulders will tighten and instinctively rise. Her smile will falter for a split second, but she immediately replaces it with a strained one.
Then she’ll deliver that fake laugh that has a hint of nervousness lingering in it while her hands ball into fists before stretching out. Over and over again she repeats the movement as if she’s trying to convince herself of something, like the feeling of her nails digging into her palm somehow grounds her.
