“What are you thinking about?” he ask quietly, pulling my lip out from between my teeth.

“I don’t want this,” I say, gesturing between the two of us, “to end just yet.” Our eyes stay locked, and I wonder if I should’ve just kept quiet. But then I’d have to pretend that I haven’t enjoyed my time with Kyler, and that would be a lie.

Kyler’s arms tighten around me. “Good. I don’t want it to be over yet either.” My belly growls again, and the moment is broken. It’s replaced with laughter, and for now, the feelings I know are creeping in stay hidden. A few more days won’t hurt, I tell myself. I’m not falling in love with him, but I feel something, and we agreed that as soon as that happened, this is over. I’m simply not ready to let him go yet.

Kyler slips my powder blue lace panties on, a pair he bought me, and then throws me over his shoulder as he marches into the kitchen. He slaps my butt, and I squeal, only to return the favor by pinching his sexy derrière. He places me on my feet, and I throw my hair up haphazardly on the top of my head. Caging me in against the breakfast bar, Kyler asks, “What would you like to eat?”

I purse my lips and tap my chin with my index finger as I pretend to think about it.

“Pancakes,” I reply, smiling. “With strawberry’s and cream.”

“Done,” Kyler replies, placing a chaste kiss on my lips.

He spins around, and starts taking out the flour, eggs, salt and butter and then takes out a pan. I walk back to the bedroom, Kyler whistling behind me, and go to grab my phone next to the bed. The first message I see is from Quinn, and it reads:

Think you can stop the sexcapades long enough to hit a club tonight?

Chuckling, my fingers click across the screen as I reply:

Yes!! Could do with some girl time. Meet here at 8?

It’s not long before I get a response:

See ya then, sis! Love ya!

Thinking about a night put with Quinn excites me. I could use a night of fun, and maybe a little down time with my best friend.

The next message I come across makes my smile falter and my stomach drop. It would happen eventually, and I should be used to it, but it’s still like a kick to the gut every time.

Need money. Call me.

A name doesn’t appear but I know the number.

My mother.

I’m about to press the delete button when my screen lights up with the number my mother sent the text from. I hesitate, knowing full well that not only will this phone call ruin my good mood, but that I’ll regret it. I answer anyway.

“Hello?”

“Why haven’t you called me?” my mother snaps. Her voice is hoarse from the years and years of smoking and drinking. It’s a voice I wish I never had to hear again.

“I was busy - ”

“I need money,” she intercedes.

“Nice to hear from you too mom. What have you done this time?” “Borrowed money from the wrong people, and now your daddy and I are in a pickle.”

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, and take a seat on Kyler’s bed. I cross my legs, tucking my feet under my butt, and prepare myself for a shitty conversation.

“How much do you need?” I ask cautiously.

The line goes quiet but I hear my mother’s breathing on the other end. Fuck. This is bad.

“How.Much?” I press.

“Ten thousand dollars.”

I gasp, my eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“THEN THOUSAND DOLLARS?” I swallow, feeling my eyes burn with unshed tears. “What did you do?”

“Well, your daddy and I started selling some stuff, and then we started using it too, and now we - ”

“Is it drugs? Please tell me you don’t owe that kind of money because you started using drugs…”

The line goes quiet, and my worst fear is confirmed. My parents are now druggies.

“Are you fucking kidding me momma?” I shriek.

“Don’t yell at me, Cassey. I’m still your mother.”

“A mother who could give two shits about me, and now that you need money, I’m good enough. I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Well if you had just helped us the last time, like I asked, we would’ve never been in this mess.”

The first tear slides down my cheek and I swipe it away quickly. She’s blaming me?

“Seriously momma? You’re blaming me? I don’t have that kind of money, and even if I did, I wouldn’t help you. I’m sorry, you’ll have to sort this out on your own.”

My mother gasps, “B-b-but I’m your momma, and you owe me!” “For what?”

“For giving you life! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be where you are.”

I scoff, feeling my anger boiling beneath my skin. “You know what? You’re right, without you I wouldn’t be here, but let’s be clear - you showed me who I don’t want to be. It was your shit life that made me work my ass off to be better than what you and daddy ever were. I’m not helping you anymore. Find someone else to feed your habit-”

“What about your boyfriend?”

I freeze. “What? I don’t have a - ”

“According to Quinn, you do. You can borrow the money from him. Surely he’ll agree you if he knew your parents need help.”

My jaw tightens, and I grind my teeth. “I don’t have a boyfriend, and even if I did, I would never ask him for this,” my voice hitches, and I blink, feeling more tears slide down my face. “I’m not helping you. Don’t call me again. You’re dead to me.”

My mother starts yelling, and I end the call before she has a chance to call me names. I stare at my phone, watching droplets splatter across my screen. I close my eyes, and inhale deeply.

It feels good to finally stand up to that woman, but she still serves as a reminder that women like me, don’t get men like Kyler Knight. They don’t choose us, and for the first time in my life, I wish I could be the kind of woman he could fall in love with. But I’m not, and I think deep down, I knew that when I agreed to what he was offering me. Then again, was I ever in a position to turn him down?

I wipe my face just as Kyler walks in with a tray. He puts it on the bed, and looks up at me. I give him a weak smile, but his brows crease. He’s far more perceptive than most men I’ve met, and sometimes his ability to read me is uncanny. It’s also unnerving, because the whole point of this was no attachments, and if I don’t tread carefully, I could lose everything all because I was stupid enough to get attached to the one man who doesn’t do relationships. He walks over to me, slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal. “Cass? What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing,” I lie. Kylers fingers come up to my chin and he tilts it so that he can look into my eyes.

“You’ve been crying,” he states. “What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “It’s not important.” I stretch onto my toes and kiss him.

“Feed me,” I say against his mouth.

His eyes scrutinize me, and when I see his decision not to press whatever he thinks is wrong, I relax and wrap my arms his waist.

We say nothing, but his eyes tell me everything. Something is different, but instead of worrying about it, I wait for Kyler to make me feel better. He might not know it, but I’m slowly becoming addicted to him, and if I don’t walk away soon enough, it may just be too late. Until then, I have to take what he’s giving me, and hope that it won’t become what I fear most. More.