His Initial on Her Replacement
The first time my mom told me about the arranged date, Finn Wilder was bent over me, tracing lines onto my skin. The buzz of the tattoo gun was the only sound between us. He pulled me closer, our bodies pressed tight.
After a dizzying blur of passion, he carried me into the bathroom. The warm water washed over my skin, but his words sent a chill through my body, as if I’d been plunged into an ice cellar.
"Go home. And don't come looking for me here again."
I thought he’d seen the text and was jealous. I threw my arms around his neck, my voice a desperate whisper. "I'm not going, I swear. I won't see anyone else—"
The smile on his lips didn't fade, but the heat in his eyes cooled, growing distant.
"But I'm getting back together with her."
He brushed aside my messy hair, ignoring the way my body trembled at his touch.
"My fiancée is elegant and pure—everything you're not. She would never debase herself by clinging to her own foster brother in a tattoo studio. We've already set a wedding date. If you keep this up, she'll be unhappy."