Heart of Thorns (Shadow Valley U Book 2)

Three shops later, and all I left with is a complex.

I know it’s not that Thorne thinks I need a makeover, but it still makes me feel like I’m not good enough or something.

Which to his parents, I’m likely not.

It’s no surprise by any means, but it’s still offensive if I think about it.

“Thorne, I look stupid.”

He grins, and I want to rip the stupid tennis skirt from my body and throw it at his feet.

“Fine, grumpy cat…”

I stand near the dressing room and watch as he pursues the racks of some high-end store that I’ll never be able to afford with my art degree—at least according to my parents.

“What about this?” He comes back holding a black miniskirt, a maroon sweater—that matches the color of his jersey—and a black puffy vest that has a price tag hanging from the zipper that makes me do a double take.

“Remember this is my parents’ money,” he reminds me.

I sigh and snatch the clothing from him and pop back into the dressing room.

I’m half-naked when he moves closer to the curtain. His shoes peek from below, and his voice sounds like he’s inside here with me.

“What are your parents like?” he asks.

I straighten the skirt on my hips. “Normal, I guess.”

He chuckles. “What’s normal, kitten?”

My cheeks ripen with heat. That nickname doesn’t seem cute anymore after he used it during our quick fuck session. I don’t know if it was because I’d taken something to enhance everything—which I’m still beating myself up for—or if it was because it was him.

Either way, hearing his raspy chuckle makes my stomach twist.

“Uh…” I pull the sweater over my head. It’s so soft. “They’re your typical, hard-working middle-class family. My mom is a receptionist at a doctor’s office, and my dad makes cabinets for a living.” I glance at the price tag again. “They are by no means rich.”

Thorne sighs loud enough for me to hear. “That sounds like a dream.”

“They’re good parents, but being an only child and middle-class comes with certain limitations.”

After shrugging the vest on, I smooth out my hair. Thorne’s finger hooks around the black curtain, and he pulls it back slowly to make eye contact with me in the mirror. “Like?”

I glance at my bumpy leg. I’ll need tights if I wear this.

“They want what’s best for me, but to them, that means no more hockey, and they’re not really a fan of my art degree either.” A sadness lingers. “They’re disappointed in me, I think.”

Thorne comes up behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. He gives me a light squeeze and shakes his head. “I don’t know them, but I don’t know how they could be disappointed in you.”

I half roll my eyes at his sweet comment.

Thorne isn’t what I thought he was. I judged him too harshly.

That doesn’t mean I’m in love with him or anything, but he’s just… good.

“We’re going to have to lie to my parents, though,” he adds, stepping away. He sits on the bench in the dressing room and stares at me.

“About?”

He seems uncomfortable. “About your parents’ jobs. That won’t be good enough for Andrew and Helena.”

I laugh sarcastically. “Too poor for their liking?”

Thorne is deep in thought. He taps his finger on his chin. “Instead of your mom working as a receptionist at a doctor’s office…let’s make her a Physician’s Assistant? My parents won’t follow up on that, and it’s still in the same field.”

I nod.

“And your father…”

“An architect?”

Thorne’s lip twitches. “Close enough, I guess. But let’s make it to where he designs medical buildings or something. I don’t want my father to get a wild hair up his ass and think he can contact your father to build some skyscraper somewhere for his business.”

“Got it.”

I put my arms out and gesture to my new clothing. “Well? I’ll need tights, but is this expensive enough for your parents?” I mentally add up the prices and the fact that he’s about to spend almost five hundred dollars on one outfit is beyond me.

Thorne drags his gaze over every inch of my body. He takes his finger and spins it in the air. I act unbothered and do as he says, turning around.

He clears his throat, and I glance at him in the mirror.

A wave of lust hits me. He’s staring at my butt while flexing his jaw.

“Like what you see?” I tease.

He snaps out of it and catches my attention. The look in his eye is that same one he had yesterday morning when he lifted my shirt up and saw at my breasts. Hunger.

“We need shoes.” he grunts, standing and leaving the dressing room.

I quickly undress and put everything back onto the hanger. It doesn’t take me long to find him near the shoes. He’s rubbing his hand against his chin as he stares at the shelf lined with boots.

“I like those.” I come up beside him and point to the shiny Doc Martens calling out to me.

Surprise flickers over his features. “Yeah?”

I nod happily, like a kid in a candy store.

Or better yet, a girl in an expensive store with a credit card that doesn’t belong to her.

Thorne walks over and tells the clerk something. She comes strolling over to me within a minute with a size eight.

He thanks her and grabs the box from her hands.

“Sit,” he tells me.

I take a seat, and he bends down below.

“How did you know what size I needed?” I ask, curious.

After slipping my Converse off, he peers at me with those warm, honey eyes. “Because I pay attention, kitten.”

Well, shit.

Cat’s got my tongue.

I say nothing as he works the boot onto my foot and laces it up.

When he’s done, he grabs my hand and pulls me to stand. I wobble, because my knee is sore, but I catch my balance.

“You hurting today?” His tone brinks on the edge of worry.

I brush it off. “I’m fine.”

“I’m putting you in an ice bath later.”

I scowl. “I hate ice baths.”

He leans down and whispers in my ear, “I’m leaving you in there extra long for lying to me about being fine, too.”

I try to step on his toe with my new boot, but he moves away at the last second.

He laughs at my expression. “I know you better than you think.”

“Oh, whatever.” I roll my eyes and turn away, only to be spun right back around.

Thorne’s forehead is burrowed, and his jaw is tense.

“What’s wrong?” My curious gaze works its way around the store.

Thorne’s hot breath fans against my face with a heavy sigh. “My father’s client.”

“Okay…” So?

A tight swallow works against Thorne’s neck. “That one whose daughter I had dissed by telling him I was in a committed relationship with someone else.”

Ah. Now it makes sense.

I latch on to Thorne’s wrists. His fingers squeeze my hips from the touch.

“That someone being me, I’m assuming?”

He nods and stands taller. His spine straightens, and every one of his muscles are stiff with stress.

I smile softly at him and attempt to calm him down. “Don’t worry. Just play along. Consider it practice.”

Confusion fixes itself onto his face, but when I get closer to him, the worry lines disappear.

I flutter my eyelashes. “Kiss me.”

He doesn’t even blink before his mouth falls to mine. I shut my eyes, and for once, I let myself feel. There is no rushing between us. We kiss slowly, and from the outside, I can only assume it appears real because it feels real. The sweeping of his tongue against mine is slow. It sends a gush of something warm into my chest, and I reciprocate.

We get lost in the show.

It’s only after I hear a clearing of a throat that we break apart.

Our eyes lock, and our chests are heaving.

That was… a lot.

“Hello, Cassius.”

I back away from Thorne, only for him to pull me in closer. Our hands clasp at his side. The man responsible for our fake relationship stands in front of us in his expensive suit, staring expectantly.

“Mr. Keenland, sir.” Thorne inclines his chin. “Good to see you again.”

I squeeze Thorne’s hand because his tone is clipped. He squeezes it back and then rubs his thumb against my skin in a comforting way.

It feels natural, even if we are practicing.

“Yes,” Mr. Keenland says. His gaze cuts to me. “And who is this?”

“My girlfriend, Briar.” Thorne smiles at him. “The one I told you about.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says gruffly to me.

Thorne asks about some business deal that Thorne’s father is in charge of, and that carries the conversation away from me.

After what feels like ages, they part ways. He made no move to inquire further about me, but I consider that practice, too.

After all, I can only assume that Thorne’s parents will be the same. It won’t matter if we make up some story about how I’m actually some rich girl who has no real ambitions like playing hockey again or pursuing a career in art.

“I think we need more practice,” Thorne finally says after we’re alone again.

I eye him suspiciously.

He seems back to his normal, relaxed self.

“Do you now?” I drag out my words after unclasping our hands. I place my fists on my hips and raise an eyebrow. “I think you just want to kiss me again.”

He looks right at my mouth, and a flush works up my neck.

“I think you’re right, kitten.”