Read Online Brand Me (Imagine Ink Book 2) by Verlene Landon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Verlene Landon
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speculation at this point?” she asked herself in a soft enough voice only the birds could hear her back-talking herself like a freaking lunatic. “Besides, he’s soon to be my ex.”
Funny how she said it with an air of superiority, like she just stumped her inquisitor, who was herself.
Semantics, my dear, semantics.
“I know, I know.” When Tori realized she was literally talking to herself, scratch that, arguing with herself, she made a conscience effort to confine her chastisement to non-verbal conversation. Even though no one was around to hear it, she still felt less nutsy-fucking-coo-coo that way.
She’d let him kiss her, what was she thinking?
Let’s be honest here, Tor, you not only let him kiss you, you kissed him back, and he rocked your world. You probably would’ve let him bury his face between your legs right there on the steps if he hadn’t cut your cheek.
Reflexively, her hand went to the tiny nick there. It was a reminder that she needed to get back on her path, not detour down Michael’s. She’d see that he was out of pain, then, head back to Richard, tell him it was over, and then, wait for John to come back on a grocery run, head back to civilization, sunshine and her very bright future.
Knowing Richard, he wouldn’t even let her stay in the cabin once she did the deed. She’d have to move to one of the ones without a generator. They’d been closed up for years and she’d most likely freeze to death before the week was out if she did that. But dang it, she would not stay with a man she could barely stand the sight of just to be comfortable.
Self-sufficient in every way, Tori didn’t rely on another to take care of her. She took care of people, not the other way around. She was like a freaking Beyoncé song—everything she had, she bought it. If worse came to worse, she would abandon her bags, which she knew Richard would torch the minute she left, and hike into town. Hell yeah, she had run marathons, obstacle runs, did one triathlon, and had a fucking can-do attitude when she needed one.
Arriving at the bathhouse, she scooped up Michael’s stuff from the porch and then entered to retrieve hers. As much as wearing his sweats offered her a measure of comfort, it wouldn’t do to get attached to a man she could never have.
Changing into her own clothes was bittersweet. Her clothes offered her a sort of protection, cotton armor if you will. But, she hated losing the weird kind of comfort his offered—sort of a buffer from that part of her that believed all the negative things Richard had told her. Somehow, when Michael looked at her, she saw them for the lies they were, and his clothes reminded her of that.
She dropped heavily onto the bench and folded and refolded his faded, gray sweats, so soft to the touch. Where her future was headed, a man like Michael by her side would be a plus, but there was no way she could fathom dating Richard’s brother. Not because of Richard, screw him, he never considered her feelings, so she would return the favor in kind. But would Michael ever be able to look at her the same once he knew?
That’s why she hasn’t pointed it out yet, so she didn’t have to witness that transition from lust to loathing. She didn’t know much about their family dynamic, She didn’t know much about his family period, but she did know there was no love lost between them, at least where Richard was concerned. And now, as she was learning to see the forest for the trees, she was sure the sentiment would be returned because, well, Richard is a total grundle goblin. They don’t call him The Dick for nothing.
Maybe as time passed, she could look Michael up and see where things could lead, but for now, that was off the table. After gathering her and Michael’s belongings, she made her way back to his cabin, just barely. The snow had picked up and the sky turned a biblical gray. They were about to be snowed in, so hiking to town would likely not be an option once
Funny how she said it with an air of superiority, like she just stumped her inquisitor, who was herself.
Semantics, my dear, semantics.
“I know, I know.” When Tori realized she was literally talking to herself, scratch that, arguing with herself, she made a conscience effort to confine her chastisement to non-verbal conversation. Even though no one was around to hear it, she still felt less nutsy-fucking-coo-coo that way.
She’d let him kiss her, what was she thinking?
Let’s be honest here, Tor, you not only let him kiss you, you kissed him back, and he rocked your world. You probably would’ve let him bury his face between your legs right there on the steps if he hadn’t cut your cheek.
Reflexively, her hand went to the tiny nick there. It was a reminder that she needed to get back on her path, not detour down Michael’s. She’d see that he was out of pain, then, head back to Richard, tell him it was over, and then, wait for John to come back on a grocery run, head back to civilization, sunshine and her very bright future.
Knowing Richard, he wouldn’t even let her stay in the cabin once she did the deed. She’d have to move to one of the ones without a generator. They’d been closed up for years and she’d most likely freeze to death before the week was out if she did that. But dang it, she would not stay with a man she could barely stand the sight of just to be comfortable.
Self-sufficient in every way, Tori didn’t rely on another to take care of her. She took care of people, not the other way around. She was like a freaking Beyoncé song—everything she had, she bought it. If worse came to worse, she would abandon her bags, which she knew Richard would torch the minute she left, and hike into town. Hell yeah, she had run marathons, obstacle runs, did one triathlon, and had a fucking can-do attitude when she needed one.
Arriving at the bathhouse, she scooped up Michael’s stuff from the porch and then entered to retrieve hers. As much as wearing his sweats offered her a measure of comfort, it wouldn’t do to get attached to a man she could never have.
Changing into her own clothes was bittersweet. Her clothes offered her a sort of protection, cotton armor if you will. But, she hated losing the weird kind of comfort his offered—sort of a buffer from that part of her that believed all the negative things Richard had told her. Somehow, when Michael looked at her, she saw them for the lies they were, and his clothes reminded her of that.
She dropped heavily onto the bench and folded and refolded his faded, gray sweats, so soft to the touch. Where her future was headed, a man like Michael by her side would be a plus, but there was no way she could fathom dating Richard’s brother. Not because of Richard, screw him, he never considered her feelings, so she would return the favor in kind. But would Michael ever be able to look at her the same once he knew?
That’s why she hasn’t pointed it out yet, so she didn’t have to witness that transition from lust to loathing. She didn’t know much about their family dynamic, She didn’t know much about his family period, but she did know there was no love lost between them, at least where Richard was concerned. And now, as she was learning to see the forest for the trees, she was sure the sentiment would be returned because, well, Richard is a total grundle goblin. They don’t call him The Dick for nothing.
Maybe as time passed, she could look Michael up and see where things could lead, but for now, that was off the table. After gathering her and Michael’s belongings, she made her way back to his cabin, just barely. The snow had picked up and the sky turned a biblical gray. They were about to be snowed in, so hiking to town would likely not be an option once
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