And then it happened.
Slowly at first, like a cold water leak in my heart. Grayson’s kisses were more intense. With every kiss, he used his entire soul. He bit. He sucked. He pushed me and demanded of me.
Cherries.
Why doesn’t he taste like sugar and whiskey—
The leak burst and drowned me.
I ripped my face away, looking to the ground.
One breath…
Maybe it’s in my head.
Two…
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“I should have kissed you back then, Angel.”
I shoved West away, stumbling until I’d put enough space between us.
“I thought you were Grayson.”
“Did you?”
He was a dark shadow in the room. I couldn’t see his facial expression, but I heard the mocking glint on his tongue.
Did I?
“I told you I’d take whatever you gave him,” he said.
“So this is your plan to win me back, West? Doing all the things that made me hate you in the first place? You knew I wouldn’t want to kiss you so you fucking stole it.”
I couldn’t breathe. A hand fisted my heart.
Almost a year ago, in this room, I was in the opposite position.
Stealing kisses.
West gripped my face, dragging my gaze back to his. With my eyes open, as the fireworks pounded, I could see his clearly.
Too clearly.
“Let me tell you why we kiss at midnight, Angel,” he growled.
He held my head in place and my neck ached with the effort to get away.
“It’s an old English folklore. We kiss at midnight because the first person we kiss sets the tone for the rest of the year. It’s about cementing who you want by your side—in your bed.”
“I don’t want you by my side,” I cried. “You raped me.”
Cherries.
His eyes flashed. “If it’s rape, then why did you come back to me?”
My lips froze around the words you’re wrong, because his poked that terribly open wound in my soul.