Glitch (Next Level Book 1)

Take it slow.

She kisses me like I’m the air she breathes.

Maintain control.

She kisses me like I’m her motherfucking lifeline.

This is crazy, and I need to not short-circuit.

Ara rakes her fingernails down my arms, up my chest, around my neck and down my back. She’s everywhere. Frantic. Desperate.

It took everything in my soul to not beat that sick asshole to death outside. One swing. I gave myself one fucking punch. Any more violence, I’d go to jail for murder, and I can’t stand the thought of leaving Ara forever. Or Erin and Beetle.

But in my mind, as that piece of shit fell to the ground, I ripped his jaw off. Peeled his skin away. Gouged out his eyes and cut off his dick. Set him on fire and pissed on the ashes. Even now, I can’t seem to calm the fuck down. I should have followed through with my impulses. Fuck the consequences.

It was bad enough Jason made Ara feel like shit about herself. It was doubly bad that he kept boomeranging back to beg her to be with him. But that he violated her privacy, recorded her like that without her consent… and put a tracking program on her laptop, too. I can’t believe how much danger she’s been in and didn’t know it.

And those pictures. I couldn’t even look past the first thumbnail in that secret folder. Jason was a twisted son of a bitch who deserves everything he’s going to get.

I should have killed him.

Now there’s too much anger in me. Too much disgust. I’m pissed at myself for holding back.

Why do I always hold back?

I held back tonight when I should have unleashed unholy fury on that sick fuck.

I held back months ago when I should have asked Ara out. Then that shithead would have never existed in her life.

I held back when I was a kid, and never spoke my feelings or said what was on my mind.

I always hold back.

Not anymore.

I grab Ara by her ass, kneading her backside as I carry her into my bedroom. She’s frantic and sad and I’m not letting her stay like this a minute longer. We’ve had a great few days and tonight was, in a twisted way, a good night too. We’re about to put a very bad man behind bars.

“You did so good,” I say against her mouth. She whimpers, rejecting my words. “You’re so strong.” She doesn’t act like it now. “My girl is so brave and fierce.” I lay her back on the bed. I’m not sure if she wants to be touched or not. She’s in a shell.

I pivot my plan. “Come on.”

I end up taking Ara back to her studio. This is her safe space. Her outlet. She needs this more than I need to claim her. As bad as I want to fuck her senseless and be a beast about it, a feral monster isn’t what she needs tonight. She needs someone patient and understanding.

I hold her hand and guide her up the steps to her workspace. Digging her keys out for her, I unlock the door and flick on the lights.

Her demeanor shifts a little once she steps inside her art room. Ara lets out a little sigh and I know I’ve done the right thing bringing her here.

In silence, I tug her shirt over her head. Slip her feet out of her shoes and pull her pants off after that. Then I walk over and drag a small table with all her paint bins and jars of brushes over to the middle of the room. Without saying a word, I sit in the corner and watch what she does.

Ara doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t acknowledge my presence whatsoever. I’m okay with that.

She scrubs her face and stares at her feet. She’s standing in the paint we fucked on earlier. Yanking her hair up, she redoes her messy bun, then grabs a canvas from the far side of the room. She props it so I can’t see what’s on it.

My girl plucks colors out of bins and loads her palate next.

Watching her work calms me. Settles my demons. Turns my scattered thoughts into actual reasonable sentences.

Ara works for hours in silence. My eyes grow heavy. I’m fucking exhausted, but I don’t dare doze off. I keep watching her. She eventually grabs the bowl of Skittles and I hear her chew. She’s hungry. I want to order food to be delivered, but I’m not risking breaking her spell. She’s in a zone. I can feel it.

I love it.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, but it must be going on twenty-four hours. I’ve already texted my manager to let him know I won’t be in for a few days. My shop runs fine without me. Rubbing the heel of my palms against my eyes, I yawn. All my fight has left me. I’m just glad Ara’s painting and her mood’s shifted to a better one.

“Want to see it?” she croaks. Her voice is as tired as I feel.

I slowly get up and make my way to her. My body is killing me. I’m utterly exhausted. From my seat, all I got a view of was the back of a canvas and the table with all the paint and brushes scattered on it. I couldn’t even see the top of Ara’s head. But when I walk around it, I’m greeted with vibrant colors. It was so cold and empty on my side of the room, but Ara’s is warm, energized. Brilliant.

Now I’m fully awake. “Holy shit.”

She’s painted me. It’s the sketch from the other day of my face, but in full detail, with a fuckload of color added to it.

I can’t stop staring at it. My face is broken into bits, like my facial cells are glitching. My throat has the word Deep blended into it. Computer code looks like it’s pouring over my head, but there are words hidden in it. Some cut deep and are harsh. Weak. Lost. Silent. Others are nice. Safe. Sublime. Strong. The letters run into each other and drip down my head and face. Not like in the Matrix. No, this is more like thick green honey that spills over me, melting into different shades of rainbow colors on the bottom. Family. Friend. Father figure.

My eyes are fierce and confident in this painting. My jaw is clenched like it is now, and I automatically try to relax it.

There are more words hidden in my hair. Grief. Grace. Generous. The details are insane. It looks like a photograph, not a painting. How the fuck did she do this?

“I want to paint you more,” she says. Her voice is strong. Eager. “I want to fill an entire art gallery with you.”

I’m not sure what to say. I’m not sure where my voice is. I don’t think I’m standing any more.

Ara’s captured the essence of everything I’ve felt for over a decade. I feel seen. Vulnerable. I stare at my eyes and in the pupils are two very small words. Ara is in one. In the other is Kitty.

“It still needs a few—”

“It’s perfect,” I rush to say. “It’s… I can’t understand how you did this but it’s…” My chest hurts. “This is incredible, Ara.”

“It’s raw and personal.”

She’s not wrong. “Why did you make your names so small in my eyes?”

“You noticed those?” She laughs, and I swear I finally feel my stress pop free from my body. “I didn’t want to overpower your features.”

“You should scroll your name across my forehead.”

“Well, there’s an idea.”

“Exactly.” Because she’s my only thought. All my brain latches onto. “Can we take it home?”

“Home?”

“Yeah.” I cock my eyebrow at her. “Home.” Because Ara’s coming home with me and that’s where she’ll live until she says otherwise. “If you hate my house, I’ll buy us a different one.”

“Slow down, big guy.”

“Nope.” I get all up in her space. “No more slowing down. No more holding back.”

“The paint has to dry.”

“Is that a yes? You’ll move in with me?”

“I’ll have to break my lease.”

“That’s okay. I’ll cover it.”

“We have to split the bills.”

The fuck we do. “We’ll negotiate that later.” She’s not paying a dime for our living situation.

“Are we really doing this?”

“Are you saying yes, Kitty?”

She beams me a smile, and I’m on cloud nine when she says, “Yes.”

I kiss her, and this time I don’t hold back. Neither does she.

Ara’s mine now, tomorrow, forever.