Until the End (Sea Breeze #9)(30)
Author: Abbi Glines

Damn, I was a lucky son of a bitch.

Blythe and Krit from Bad for You

Blythe

So many numbers . . . So many people . . . Oh my God.

I sat at my desk, staring at the screen of my MacBook. I hadn’t been able to do much else for the past hour. There were just too many freaking numbers. I hadn’t expected this. Never in a million years had I expected this.

But it was there. Was it wrong?

Gripping the edge of my desk, I blinked several times and took a deep breath. When the numbers remained the same, I pinched myself. Ouch. Yeah, I was awake. This wasn’t a dream.

I heard my phone ringing, but I couldn’t answer it. My eyes were completely glued to those numbers. Talking right now wouldn’t be possible. I was speechless.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting there when the door of our apartment flew open and Krit stalked in, frantically calling my name.

Hearing his voice snapped me out of my state of shock, and I lifted my gaze to see my beautiful boyfriend with his pale blond hair and striking blue eyes looking at me like he was terrified.

“You’re okay,” he gasped. “Fuck . . . Goddamn, love, you scared the shit out of me. I’ve been calling for the past hour. I even had Green come up and knock on your door.”

I hadn’t heard Green knocking, but, then again, I’d only noticed my phone ringing once. “Come here. Come see,” I managed to say.

“What is it?”

He came behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders as he pressed a kiss to my head. “Wait . . . are those your book sales?” he asked, awe in his voice.

“Yeah . . .” I nodded, then let out a laugh. “I’m just . . . Can you believe this?” I asked, turning to gaze up at him.

Krit’s smile was so full of pride my heart felt full. “Hell yeah, I believe it. Those stupid shits who sent you rejection letters didn’t know what they were doing. This proves it. You’re brilliant, baby. I never doubted that.”

I had spent seven months trying to get a literary agent for my finished novel. It hadn’t happened for me. After ten rejections, I did some research online and found out about self-publishing.

It took three more months of getting an editor and having the manuscript cleaned up, finding a cover artist to do my cover, and building an online presence. Two weeks ago I had clicked publish on the three top ebook retailers.

I hadn’t even let Krit tell our friends. Knowing my words were out there for people to read was terrifying. Within days bloggers had started reviewing it. I wouldn’t look at the sales numbers all week because I was afraid to.

“Can you believe that in two weeks’ time eight thousand people have bought my book? They’ve read it!” I was amazed.

“Babe, it’s about us. That’s some good shit,” he teased.

I shook my head and stood up, putting my hands on my hips. “Krit, that’s . . . that’s twenty-four thousand dollars in just two weeks.” Even saying it out loud sounded insane. Crazy! People did not make that kind of money in two weeks. Especially not college students.

“What?” Krit asked slowly.

I hadn’t discussed pricing with him, or how much profit I received per book. This was where he got the shock. “Twenty-four thousand. I make three dollars a book,” I explained.

Krit’s eyes went wide, and then something happened. The excitement and pride that had been there faded. Something else took its place before he turned his head away from me. “That’s amazing, love. Really amazing. I knew you’d do it. You deserve it,” he said, finally glancing back at me. “I gotta get back to class. I’ll see you tonight,” he said, then kissed me hard on the mouth before walking out of the apartment we shared.

What the heck had just happened?

Krit

Going back to class was pointless. My head was f**ked up. Everything was f**ked up. This was just the beginning for her. Two weeks and she’d made what it took me about six months to make. Holy shit.

I needed to talk to my sister. No, not her. She’s a woman. I needed to talk to Rock. He’d understand before Trisha would. The diamond ring I’d been making payments on for the past six months didn’t seem so damn impressive anymore. Eight thousand dollars had kicked my ass, but I was making the final payment on it this Friday.

Planning how to propose to Blythe had been an even longer ordeal. I had changed my mind ten times already. I was sure I had decided what I wanted to do now, but after this . . . could I?

FUCKED! This was so f**ked.

Twenty-four thousand goddamn dollars. Motherfucker, that was insane. And it was going to get worse. She was going to be making millions at this rate. She was almost finished writing her second novel. So then she’d have two books out there making this kind of money.

I pulled my bike over and called Rock.

“What’s up?” he said by way of greeting.

“Where are you? I need to talk.”

“I’m over at the condos Dewayne has going up. I was going with him and Preston to get some lunch. Want to come with us?”

Telling Rock this was one thing. He was family. This wasn’t shit you shared with other people. “No, just need to talk to you. When will you be done with lunch?”

“Wait a sec,” Rock said. “D, I gotta go meet up with Krit. I’ll catch up with y’all later.” Then he said to me, “I’m headed to my house. Meet me there in five.”

I slipped my phone into my pocket and turned my Harley back to the road before heading to my sister’s house.

By the time I arrived, Rock’s truck was parked outside and he was leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me. I didn’t normally come to him with stuff. He usually gave me advice I didn’t want. The truth was, Rock might be just a couple of years older than me, but he had become a safe place for me when I was a scared kid. When he had walked into our lives, I was fourteen and trying to keep my sister alive. Then Rock Taylor had stepped in and saved us both.

He was my family.

I parked my bike by his truck, then walked over to him.

“Sounds serious,” he said, studying me closely.

“It is. I think. Fuck, I don’t know.” This was so damn confusing.

“Let’s hear it.”

I had come here to tell him my problem and get advice. Backing out now was a pu**y move. With a frustrated sigh, I looked at the man I considered a brother. “I can’t propose to Blythe. Not anymore. It won’t look right,” I blurted out. That hadn’t been exactly the way I wanted to say it, but that was what came out.

My biggest fear. The one thing that was haunting me and driving me mad.

Rock frowned. “You mean after spending all that money on a ring and working shifts for Dewayne to make extra cash, you aren’t gonna propose? What the f**k happened?”

“She . . . she published her book. She didn’t want me to tell anyone. She did it two weeks ago,” I explained.

Rock grinned. “That’s awesome. Why didn’t she want you telling people?”

“Because she was nervous. Scared. Hell, I don’t know. I just didn’t say anything. But it’s doing better than she expected. Much better. Like five figures better in two damn weeks.”

Rock let out a loud laugh. “No f**king way! That’s great, man. What’s the problem? I bet she’s thrilled.”

He wasn’t getting it. Frustrated, I shoved my hand through my hair and groaned. “Yeah, it’s great. She is thrilled, and I’m happy for her. Don’t get me wrong. I’m so damn proud of her. But . . . but now that she’s making this kind of money, I can’t go and propose. That’s like me saying that now that she’s big money, I want to get hitched.”

Rock frowned. “That’s not the truth. You’ve been working your ass off to get her a ring that was bigger than anything Blythe expects.”

“Bad timing,” I snapped.

Rock finally got it. “Shit.”

“What do I do?” I asked him.

Rock sighed and shrugged. “Dude, I don’t know. I’ve never had to worry about Trisha thinking I wanted her for her money. Maybe this isn’t a permanent thing and it won’t be this much money in the future. When she’s making less money, would you feel better proposing then?”

“I hate waiting. I want my ring on her finger. It’s just the idea of her thinking I could want her for anything less than just her kills me. I worry that doubt would be in the back of her mind. I want to ask her to marry me, but when I do it, I want her to understand that she is my f**king universe. Being with her in a cardboard box would be fine as long as she’s curled up next to me. I just need her to be happy. Now all this f**king money . . .” I wanted to scream in frustration.

“Wait. Give it a week or so. Maybe a month. If you’re worried about the money. In all honesty, I don’t think Blythe will think you are proposing because she’s had success with this book. When she sees that diamond you got her, she’s gonna know you’ve been working for this for a while.”

“Or she’s gonna think I got it on credit, planning to pay it off once I’m married to a wealthy woman,” I grumbled.

Damn money. It had to make everything complicated. I just never thought it would make my life complicated.

My girl had written a novel—gone after her dream and achieved it. Instead of celebrating, I was bitching about it. How screwed up was that?

She deserved this. I needed to get over myself. The time would be right eventually. I just needed to wait for it.

Blythe

Krit’s strange reaction and quick departure today had bothered me so much I couldn’t focus. I closed my computer and cleaned the apartment, then went to get groceries to try to keep my mind off his odd behavior.

Around four Krit came walking in with his usual charming smile and pulled me into his arms to kiss me senseless. He managed to erase all my concerns with that one possessive lip-lock. We cleaned each other in the shower—several times—before getting ready for Jackdown’s gig tonight at Live Bay.

“Don’t forget you have to sing tonight,” Green called out as he walked in the back entrance, leaving me and Krit out here alone. It was a ritual now. Sometimes they all left us alone so we could make out. And other times we just kind of . . . did it. Depended on what Krit needed.

“Fuck off,” Krit yelled back at him, annoyed.

I grabbed his face and moved his attention to me. “Be a good boy.”

Krit gave me his wicked smile. “That’s no fun, love,” he said, slipping a hand between my legs. “Good boys don’t do this.”

His finger thrust up into me with ease. I was always wet when Krit was around me. His face and the way his mouth moved when he talked, not to mention his piercing, just . . . made me aroused most of the time.

“They don’t?” I panted, trying to play along as he found the spot inside me that always sent me spiraling into oblivion.

“Uh-uh. They don’t have a clue,” he whispered against my ear, then bit my lobe before licking my neck.

I held on to his shoulders while he brought me to my cl**ax.

When I came down, he pulled his finger out and moved it to his mouth to suck on it.

Giggling, I shook my head. “You are a very bad boy. I’m very lucky you’re my bad boy.”

He moved closer to me and cocked his head to the side as a crooked grin appeared on his face. “You like this bad boy, love?” he asked, running his damp finger, which I could smell myself on, down the side of my face.

“He’s okay,” I teased, knowing that what he really wanted was for me to tell him I loved him.

He pouted, and those full lips of his made my heart skip. “That ain’t nice. I’m obsessed with your sweet cunt, and God knows I love you. I better be more than okay.”

I reached up and rubbed my thumb over his pouty lips. “You know that I love you. I screamed how much I loved you earlier in the shower. So loudly our neighbors banged on the wall to shut me up.”

The wicked laugh that vibrated his chest was delicious. “When my head is between your legs, tongue-f**king you, it doesn’t count. Of course you love me then.”

I was getting better about not blushing when Krit talked dirty, but sometimes I still did. Like when he talked about how much I loved for him to kiss me there.

“I love you, Krit Corbin. So very much,” I assured him.

He closed his eyes, pulled my thumb into his mouth, and bit it gently. “That’s it. What I f**king need to hear,” he said, then opened his eyes and slipped his arm around my waist. “Let’s go do this.”

We walked into the back entrance, and Green shook his head at us like we were naughty children. It wasn’t like Green didn’t mess around with girls backstage. Just last week I’d walked in on him nailing a girl against the wall in the greenroom. I saw a flash of his butt and her br**sts before I slammed the door in horror.