Damaged: The Dillon Sisters by Layla Frost (good story books to read .txt) 📕

with Alexander had been intense from the start. I used to think it was too fast, too much, too deep. But in the days since finding out about his former hobby, it became obvious that he’d actually been holding back.

Not anymore. I had every possessive bit of him.

And I loved every bit of him.

Which was why I shrugged. “Sounds good.”

“Liar,” he muttered before hauling me across the couch to sit on his lap.

“Okay, the night itself sounds like torture,” I admitted. “But spending it by your side sounds good.”

“You sure? We don’t have to go.”

We didn’t. If I said no, we’d spend another night in his fortress of solitude.

Or, since I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent a night without him, his fortress of duo-tude.

Schooling my features, I pretended to mull it over so I would have the upper hand for negotiations. “I’ll go if I can bring home the chicks we just got at the rescue.”

His hold on my hips tightened, and his expression turned unreadable.

I rushed to explain. “They’re so cute, and I’m worried a cat is going to sneak in and have themselves a Kentucky unfried dinner, if you know what I mean.” I gestured out the big window. “And there’s so much land, we could put the coop far from the house, so you won’t even see it.” At his stretching silence, I figured my negotiating skills sucked and took the loss. “I’ll go with you no matter what.”

“You said home.”

My brows lowered. “What?”

“You said you wanted to bring them home. Here.”

Well, shit.

I hadn’t even noticed I’d said it, but since I spent a lot more time at his place than at my apartment…

“It’s pretty much the truth.”

“You can have them,” he said, his voice thick with lust and love. “You can bring home every animal in that shelter for all I care. Just keep calling this home.”

I recognized the gleam in his gaze, like he wanted to kiss me. Like he was dying to.

He didn’t have the chance.

Because I kissed him first. Partially to evade more conversation courtesy of the profound moment, but mostly because I liked kissing him.

I may have started it, but he took over. Holding me. Controlling me. Moving me how he wanted to deepen the kiss until my core was soaked, my heart was pounding, and my lips were deliciously swollen.

When we finally tore ourselves apart, I said, “I don’t want all the animals. Only the chicks. And I won’t get attached. Chickens can be total assholes and are kinda stupid, so they can die easily.”

He grinned. “You’re already attached.”

I really was. I’d thought they’d be a safe way to dip my toes into pet ownership since they weren’t technically a pet. But the more I’d watched them squawk and run around, the more I loved them.

“We’ll go get a coop and supplies on your day off,” he said.

I returned his grin and snuggled into his chest. After a few minutes, I lifted back up.

He moved his focus from the TV to me. He always did that. Giving me his full attention, no matter what else was happening. It made me feel like I was the most important person in existence.

“You okay, flower?”

“How do you feel about pit bulls with incredibly stupid names?”

Alexander

STANDING ON THE back deck, I watched Briar fuss with her chickens. Her ‘chick army’ as she called it, as if they were badass predators and not harmless balls of feathers she was already spoiling.

She’d offered to set them up farther from the house. But, even with the stalker cam I’d installed so she could keep an eye on them, I knew Briar would be outside all the time to see them in person. Which meant I wanted the coop close to the house because I’d be outside all the time to see her.

Once they were fed, watered, and locked in the coop for the night, Briar looked up and saw me. Like always when she caught me watching her—which was often—she rolled her eyes before grinning. She came over, and when she bent to pick up her tea, I grabbed her ass.

“Not in front of the chicks.” She turned her ass away from me, but the front of her was just as good. “I think they like me. Do chicks imprint on people?”

“The only things I know about chickens are what you’ve told me and that they taste delicious with BBQ sauce or—”

My teasing words were cut off when she covered my mouth with her hand. “Don’t talk about food chickens in front of pet chickens.”

They were the same thing, but I wasn’t going to upset her by saying so.

I tilted my head toward the coffee table on the deck. “Your phone is going crazy.”

“What is it?”

“I didn’t look.” At her disbelieving expression, I pointed out, “I only care about what you do and you’re not currently on your phone.”

“True.” She handed me the tea that reeked of dead flowers, but that I’d stocked up on because she loved it and I loved her. Picking up her phone, guilt crossed her features and she gnawed on her lip.

“Aria?” I guessed.

“Yeah. Crap, a bunch of missed calls and te…” Her word trailed off and her eyes got huge. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Though I was pretty sure I knew.

“Aria says we were on TMZ’s website a couple days ago. That can’t be right.” Her thumbs flew across the screen as she typed rapidly. “Oh my God, we are.” She turned her screen quickly, giving me a brief glimpse of a picture of us. “Listen. ‘Alexander Thornton, the notoriously private millionaire mogul and owner of Thorn Tech, stepped into the spotlight to celebrate the launch of Local Hops. Sources say he was essential to the development of the app that matches local restaurants to craft breweries. He was accompanied by a mystery woman who made plaid look high fashion. Little is known about this beauty, but partygoers say the PDA was at a PD-HIGH. We get the feeling the app wasn’t