59

KANE I made a miscalculation. To be blunt, I fucked up. Big time. I sit on the edge of the bed, where Dahlia sleeps soundly, her face relaxed and peaceful, except for the mascara smears around her eyes. Soft mumbles leave her parted mouth, and I can’t resist stroking her lips, her jaw, and her cheek. No matter how much I touch her, it barely scratches the surface of my deviant fixation. I could swallow her the fuck up and it’d still be a far cry from enough. Dahlia leans into my touch, stroking her cheek against my palm as a moan leaves her lips and lodges itself deep in my chest. Something is wrong with the fucker—my chest—because it’s moving. I probably need to consult with my doctor and have him check what the fuck is wrong with my head while he’s at it. Because I truly and undeniably fucked the hell up. It’s been a couple of hours since I drove her back to my place. She fell asleep in the car and didn’t stir when I carried her in my arms and tucked her in bed. Usually, Dahlia sleep