Page 70 of Wicked Promises

She touches the corner of my eye. “Never thought I’d see the day when Caleb Asher shed a tear.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m just…”

“If you say you don’t love me back, I’ll call you a liar,” she threatens. “No other emotion would explain the psychopathic tendencies you sometimes exhibit.”

I flip her over onto her back, hovering above her. My weight settles onto her, showing her exactly what I think of this situation, and she exhales.

Carefully, I lift her hand. Kiss her palm, then down farther, to where her skin is so white it’s almost translucent. And the bracelet.

“I’m possessive,” I admit. “It’s a flaw.”

“The first step is admitting you have a problem,” she whispers.

I smirk, but it slips away rather fast. “I don’t know how you can proclaim love when there are so many missing puzzle pieces.”

The palm I just kissed cups my cheek. “What else could there possibly be to ruin this? Ruin us?”

I shake my head.

I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised if something did.

Wouldn’t be the first time… and it’s just our luck to be torn apart. I think of my dad and her mom, the way they were drawn together and ripped brutally apart.

Maybe Asher men are destined to fall for Wolfe women.

It can’t be helped. And it can’t be stopped.

I’m following in my father’s footsteps—minus the wife.

And this time, I’ll just have to hope we have different endings. That I won’t ruin every good thing.

“If you’re not going to say it, show me,” she says.

I smile. Her hands are already on the button of my pants.

“That, I can do.”

Chapter 21

Margo

Dr. Sayer is… not quite how I pictured her.

Long black hair in beautiful, intricate braids, dark eyes and skin. She wears a long flowing dress that isn’t weather appropriate, but it’s warm in her office. There’s even a fireplace behind her.

The whole office has a cozy vibe. Dark wood walls and furniture, a cream-colored rug on the tiled floor. One whole wall filled with books and baubles. Some related to psychology and talk therapy, plus a healthy mix of classics.

I spend the first fifteen minutes of our session standing by those books, running my fingers along the titles.

“To Kill a Mockingbird?” I ask, the first thing I’ve said besides our introduction.

“Do you not like that one?”

I shrug. She’s at her therapist chair, which faces a couch and a chair. I guess I could’ve got my pick of the two, but instead… here I stand, silently counting down the minutes.

“I found myself drawn to Scout’s attitude,” she says quietly. “There’s a lot we can learn from a girl like her.”

My finger travels next toThe Bluest Eyeby Toni Morrison. “Envy is dangerous.”