Page 65 of Miss Behaved
“Come to LA with me,” he says.
My body stiffens at the question, at the fact that he even said it. I gnaw at the inside of my cheek, knowing I want to believe we could fade into that California dream and continue hiding in whatever blissful cocoon we’re currently evolving in. But I know it’s wishful thinking, and today we’re being thrown headfirst back into reality.
“I can’t,” I say, and the corners of his mouth turn down in disappointment. “I have to meet with my publisher about the new series and start working on it. And I have an apartment to get home to. My things, my friends. And I need to face the music with Steven, even if it’s just to get his things back to him.”
Carson’s jaw tightens at the mention of Steven’s name.
“Besides, I’m sure you have your own stuff to get back to,” I say. “If I came with you, I’d just be a distraction.”
“The best kind of distraction.” He gives me a quick kiss on the nose, and I giggle. But as we stare at each other, his gaze shifts, and reality sinks in. Carson scratches the back of his neck and buries his face against the pillow.
“What?” I ask him, dragging my hand through his hair.
“My publisher’s still pissed I killed off my main character in the last book. Gotta win them over.”
“Didn’t they know you were killing him off before they published it?” I ask him.
Carson nods, his face still buried. “They signed off thinking I’d agree to a spin-off series. But they didn’t expect my readers to get so pissed. So now they want me to bring Damian back.”
“From the dead?” I say with a raised eyebrow. “Didn’t he get shot in the head?”
“Try telling them that,” he mumbles against the pillow.
“I guess it’s not entirely impossible.” I purse my lips. “Maybe it wasn’t really him? Or he lived through it but has been in a coma? Or he made them think he was dead as part of a bigger plot to take them down?”
“You sound really invested in this.” He turns his face from the pillow and smiles.
“I don’t know about invested. But let’s just say there might have been a little bit of yelling when I got to the final pages of that book. I mean, you killed him, really? I did not see that coming.”
He shrugs. His eyebrows are sticking out in all different directions from burying his face in the pillow, so I smooth them over. His face softens at the touch of my hand.
“I love knowing that you’ve read my books,” Carson says with his eyes closed.
“I’d say the same to you, but it feels a little bit more personal in my case, so the nerves win out.”
He opens his eyes and cups my hand on the side of his face. “Your books are all I had left of you.”
My stomach does a little somersault, and I have to fight to keep it together.
“So, what are you going do?” I ask.
Carson shrugs one shoulder. “Try and convince them that it’s time to switch directions.”
Here I am, trying to stay in my very comfortable lane, and Carson is doing the exact opposite. Proving he’s something more than people say. Showing the world there’s more to Carson Calloway than meets the surface.
“You’ll convince them,” I say, no doubt in my mind.
The space between his eyebrows pinches together, and I’m not sure what he’s thinking with those liquid blue eyes fixed on mine.
“What?” I ask.
“Why do our lives have to be so far away from each other?” he asks.
“It’s not just the distance that’s the issue,” I say to him. “Sure, inside this bubble, we feel good, we feel right again. But I don’t know how we carry those feelings outside of these walls. My life’s in Seattle. Yours isn’t.” I place a hand over his jaw and turn to face him. “I think it’s better if we just—”
Carson leans into a kiss that stops my train of thought. He drinks the words straight from my mouth before I let them out, and we can’t put them back again.
“Don’t say that,” he says against my mouth, pulling me in before I can argue. His warm skin and morning erection press against me, and even though there’s a soreness between my legs, the desire for him aches deeper.
