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Author: C.J. Primer
last update Last Updated: 2022-11-03 00:19:21
VANESSA

Smoke. Leather. Juniper. Spice.

Callum’s signature scent barely lingers on this t-shirt anymore, but if I pull the collar up over my nose and breathe in deep, I can still smell it.

And yeah, I’m that pathetic girl right now lying in bed wearing my ex-boyfriend’s shirt. I wish I could say this is the first time, but that’d be a lie. I threw this t-shirt on to leave his place once, and when I rediscovered it lying in a crumpled heap under my bed a week after he left, I clung to this damn shirt like a lifeline. I’d put it on to drown myself in the illusion that he was with me; that he never left.

Flipping through Callum’s sketchbook has become like a compulsion over the past few days since he gave it to me, and as I paged through it again today, I put on his shirt to feel closer to him. My emotions have been all over the place since that day at the cabin. Seeing him was hard enough, but these drawings… they’re all done with such detail, such care. In handing over the sketch
C.J. Primer

Today's update is on the shorter side, but allll the drama is coming on Friday! ;)

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Comments (61)
goodnovel comment avatar
Marrie Mitipelo
ooooh... that'd be awesome! As for Spence... he's been doted on as the favorite All his life. He'd not been given the opportunity to have Cal be Big brother because of his parents! I believe, with the Right guidance, he and Cal Could both be enforcers
goodnovel comment avatar
Marrie Mitipelo
Yeah... that's annoying. I wait. it's the waiting that gets me excited. CJ Primer is an Amazing writer! Very good at leaving us hanging.........
goodnovel comment avatar
Katherine Pérez
Who else is checking for updates every 5 minutes? ......
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  • Broken Bond   35

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  • Broken Bond   37

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  • Broken Bond   Epilogue

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  • Broken Bond   42

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  • Broken Bond   41

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  • Broken Bond   40

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  • Broken Bond   39

    VANESSA My fingertips ghost over the delicate lines of the drawing in my lap, in awe of the painstaking detail that went into every stroke of the pencil to create it. It’s a depiction of me- like every other sketch in this book- and in this one, my eyes are the main feature, crinkled at the edges, a giveaway that I’m smiling even though my fists are tucked in front of my mouth to hide it. My hair frames my face in loose waves, every strand etched with such precision that you can see the movement in the drawing like it’s captured a moment in time. Callum is so freaking talented, and something hot burns in my chest every time I look through these drawings, his love poured onto every page. It’s a heady feeling, being his muse. Being the subject of his art, the object of his affection. It’s immense and overwhelming. Nobody sees me like Callum Conway does. The sound of a key turning in the lock of his apartment door yanks me out of the trance I’m in, and I jerk my head up, looking toward

  • Broken Bond   38

    CALLUM“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me,” Troy mutters dryly as he forces his way past me into my apartment.My muscles lock up as his shoulder knocks into mine. “Yeah, well I knew you wouldn’t stop calling until I picked up,” I grumble.I glare after my stepfather as he strides right into the living room like he owns the damn place, and all the effort I put into calming myself prior to this interaction is immediately wasted at the sight of him in my space. My jaw ticks in agitation, fingers twitching at my sides. I’m not fond of anybody intruding on my space, Nessa being the only exception.That’s who I’m really doing this for. My girl is an idealist; she can’t abide not seeing wrongs righted, so if there’s one to uncover here, I’ll try, for her. I finally picked up one of Troy’s calls this morning and told him he could come over for a chat, though I still have doubts about Chase’s plan actually working. It’s clever, but he doesn’t know Troy like I do. It’d take a sledg

  • Broken Bond   37

    VANESSA“Callum,” I whine, squirming atop the soft cotton sheets. Bright sunlight pours in through the window across from my bed, illuminating him in all his naked glory.He only grunts in response.I bury my hands in his hair, tugging on the strands. “C’mon, we have to leave this room,” I pant, a little tremor wracking my body as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “We at least have to eat…”He lifts his head with an arched brow, licking his lips and hitting me with a panty-melting smirk. “What do you think I’m trying to do down here?” He lowers his head between my thighs again before I can respond, his tongue lashing against my clit, earning a hoarse moan from my lips.“I… I… oh god, right there…” I babble, my back arching off the bed as he screws a finger into my tight hole again, curving it upwards to press against that same spot inside that has me falling to pieces against his face.I’ve lost count of how many orgasms he’s wrung out of me since we locked ourselves in here last

  • Broken Bond   36

    CALLUMIt’s going to storm.I can smell it in the air even before I hear the faint echo of thunder in the distance, a warning of what’s coming.We need the rain. The blistering summer sun has made the grass brittle, the forest foliage withering with thirst. Even the river is lower than I’ve seen it in years, in desperate need of a top-up. Sitting outside on the patio behind the packhouse, there’s an unmistakable energy in the air, almost like the parched landscape is quivering in anticipation for the storm to roll in.Within myself, the storm is already raging. It has been for a long time, born in a dark room in a basement, fed by anger and resentment. Until I found the one person who could calm it: Vanessa Diaz, my muse, my light.“You good?” Chase asks, his eyes still bloodshot from the joint we smoked.I grunt in affirmation, nodding. My own high is already gone, but the weed calmed me down as it worked its way through my system, tempering my agitation. Pulling the skeletons out of

  • Broken Bond   35

    VANESSAI glance over at Callum as he drives, the shadows dancing ominously across his profile.He really is beautiful. His face is seared into my memory, but I still get caught up in looking at him sometimes, admiring his sharp jawline and impeccable bone structure. The symmetry of his features is almost too perfect to be real- like he was cut from stone, some sculptor’s fantasy brought to life.It’s not his face that gets me, though. Or even his body, stacked with mouth-watering lean muscle that ripples with every movement. It’s the way he sets me ablaze with a single glance. The way he puts on a hard front with other people but softens all of his sharp edges for me. The way he lets me see the real him, and the way he really sees me.It’s the sweet words and the gentle touches and the all-consuming intensity of his presence. Every time I’m with him, I’m reminded why I fell for him in the first place- and why even after everything he put me through, I’m still hopelessly, crazily, irr

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