Page 141 of Sweet Nightmare
“You planning to read that one?” He points toward the book in my hands.
“Yes.”
“It ends terribly.”
I blink at him. “Did you seriously just spoil the ending?”
“Thought you'd want to know.” My left eye twitches. If there is something I hate more than overly happy people, it’s people who spoil books for others.
“I didn’t want to know. Why would I want someone to spoil a book for me?”
“I didn’t spoil the book.” He pauses. “Just the ending.”
“Oh you’re a real piece of s—”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I thought obscenities weren’t part of Her Royal Highness’s vocabulary.”
“Ugh.” I put the book back where it belongs and make a mental note to come back when he’s not there. “Never mind. I’m leaving now.”
“Stay.”
The word is quiet, almost hesitant.
I stop.
When I look back, he’s watching me differently. No smirk. No sarcasm.
Just... different.
And something inside me shifts again.
This is new and I don’t know what to do with it.
So I do what I always do when something makes me uncomfortable.
I analyze it.
And suddenly, I see him.
Not the rude host who has spent the last thirty something hours testing my patience. Not as the arrogant rapper who seems to have made irritating me his personal hobby.
Not Khaos.
Just…Stephen.
The broad line of his shoulders beneath the white shirt. The tattoos disappearing beneath his sleeves that look kind of sad. The damp strands of black and white hair falling carelessly across his forehead. The sharp angles of his face softened by the warm glow of the fireplace behind him.
But none of that is what holds my attention.
It’s the tiredness beneath his eyes. The tension in his jaw. The sadness he seems determined to bury beneath his sharp tongue.
I’ve seen that look in the mirror before.
He carries himself like the world has always demanded more from him than he’s willing to give.
I know that feeling and that’s what unsettles me most.
It’s not attraction. Attraction is easy. You admire someone’s face, feel a little heat beneath your skin, and move on.
