Swallowing around the lump that has formed in my throat, I gaze up at him and wish I could summon a little more anger and a lot less longing to feel his mouth on mine.
We stare into each other’s eyes, the party forgotten, the crowd disappeared. There’s nobody but the two of us in our own small bubble of dysfunction.
I whisper, “Is that a tattoo of my name on your forearm?”
“You can read. You know it is.”
“Just checking. I didn’t tell anyone about the Thirteen.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
The emotion in his eyes is overwhelming. “Because you’re everything good and true, and I trust you. With my heart, with my life, with everything I am, I trust you, Emery. And I’ve never loved anyone more.”
“Callum. Goddammit.” I can barely get the words out, I’m so choked up.
He takes my face in
