Patchwork House has a reputation. It was a boys club—a mean boys club. No girls allowed. They'd made an exception for me once, and now they were going to make another.
Because I was coming home.
Welcome to Patchwork House…Rebels. Misfits. Bad boys who rule the streets. Everyone's welcome at the worst kept secret in town, just so long as you don't mind getting your reputation—and your heart—a little dirty.
(full blurb to be released on cover reveal)
TEASER IS UNEDITED AND SUBJECT TO CHANGE
“You gonna smoke it?” I asked after a few minutes, the flame burning the joint down. She stared at it.
“I’ve never…” she stuttered. “I mean…”
“You lived with three punks and you never smoked weed?” I already knew the guys didn’t give her shit, but anything could have happened the two years she was gone. Could she tell I was fishing for information? I wanted to know everything. To hear it from her lips.
Her pouty, cold stained lips.
She shrugged. “I was surprisingly sheltered.”
I smiled to myself. It was always part of the plan to keep her as separate from our life as possible, to give her a normal life, whatever the fuck that meant.
But she came back.
Now all bets were off.
I raised a brow, tilted my head to hers. “Want to learn?” She nodded, passed the joint to me. Our fingers stayed connected. 1…2…3…I gripped the back of her head, tangled my fingers in her hair, dragging her head to mine.
A gasp fell from her lips.
Those perfect, pink lips centimeters from mine.
I’d dreamed of this, of her full bitable lips so close her taste was a whisper on the wind.
“What are you doing?” her question was breathless, eyes wide and latched on to my every move. I inhaled deeply, and as an answer blew smoke into her parted lips.
I kept her head tight in my grip, forcing her still, and took a snapshot of the image in my head. Of her red, tear stained eyes and pink cheeks.
She was all grown up and smoking marijuana. A big change from the little girl who told me cigarettes were bad.