The Breaking Season Read online K.A. Linde

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
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I swallowed. “No.”

He nipped at my earlobe. “Liar.”

I closed my eyes again and leaned into him. “Maybe…” I amended. “Like… not completely public, but we could get caught…” I trailed off.

“You have a filthy mind.” We swayed from side to side, dancing in the moonlight, as the party went on all around us. “I do enjoy it.”

Our friends closed in around us, hips grinding and music pumping. Everything felt right. It might be a truce, but a part of me liked having him here rather than always a source of contention. Never knowing which side of his personality I was going to get. Maybe he could take his anger and just use it in the bedroom. Maybe it could always be this way.

Eventually, my friends all left the sand and flopped down on the blankets. Lark had procured a cake—a huge cake with frosting that swirled from blood red all the way up to the lightest pink. It was beautiful, and there was one tiara-shaped candle at the top.

I moved to stand before it as my friends all sang “Happy Birthday” to me over the noise from the party. I smiled so hard that my cheeks hurt. This was how it was supposed to be. And as the song came to an end, I stared into that one flame.

“Make a wish!” Whitley cried.

Gavin nudged her, and she laughed, leaning into him. He slung a casual arm around her waist. But I couldn’t think about what that meant for them at this moment.

Just the candle before me. The one wish I had for my birthday. My eyes met Camden’s over the flickering light. And I knew just what I wanted to wish for.

I closed my eyes and blew the candle out.

17

Katherine

A waiter came by to cut the gorgeous vanilla cake with raspberry cream layers and dish it out to the rest of the partygoers. It looked delicious, but I couldn’t even eat a bite. I was so fired up from the party and the wish and the magic of our last night on the beach. I wasn’t even hungry.

I just wanted more dancing and singing and a kiss at midnight. Then Camden and I could finally finish what we’d started. The perfect birthday.

I walked around the others who were enjoying the cake and to my husband’s side.

He tugged me in close. “So, what did you wish for?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t come true.”

He arched an eyebrow. “But what if I guess?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” I said with a wink.

“I’m a very good guesser,” he breathed into my ear.

“Oh, I bet you are.”

“Was it to have my cock inside of you later?”

My body tensed with anticipation and need. Fuck, I wanted that. But that hadn’t been my wish. He could think that was it all he wanted. I wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t tell him what it actually was. I’d never let myself be that open, not when so much was still on the line.

“Would you make that wish come true?” I purred.

“I would consider the matter.”

“Well,” I teased, trailing my nail down his jawline, rough with stubble, “I will let you know when it comes true.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket then. Loud and insistent.

I sighed. “Another call, really? Are you ever going to get a day off?”

He frowned. “I wasn’t expecting another call.”

He removed his phone from his pocket and turned it to face him. His frown deepened, but I didn’t see the name on the screen.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“No one. I have to take this. I’ll be right back.”

“Camden, it’s nearly midnight.”

His voice hardened. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” I muttered, but he was already walking away across the sand.

My stomach tightened in worry. I didn’t want to feel anything at all about who could be on that line. But if he hadn’t been anticipating another call and he hadn’t shown me who was on the line or told me, I had only one guess who it was.

Fiona.

I needed a drink. A stiff drink. No more umbrellas. Shots would do.

I stomped back over to the empty pillow fort. All of my friends had returned to the dance floor. The countdown was drawing ever nearer to midnight. And here I was, taking shots, alone, on my birthday. Fabulous.

Then there was a body next to me.

I looked over in surprise to find Penn Kensington. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you’ve been avoiding me like the plague,” he said with that signature smirk.

“Don’t you think there’s a reason for that?”

He took the shot out of my hand and downed it himself. “That’s your third. I think you’re a bit drunk.”

“So what if I am? It’s my birthday.”

“And you can cry if you want to?” he asked imperiously.

I glared at him. “Could you cut the shit, Penn? You’re here. Risking the ire of my husband and your wonderful wife. What could you possibly want?”


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