"There isn't a way out."
"I know." He steps closer. "But I still want you."
No. Don't say that.
"You can't want me."
"Too late."
"Axel, this is… everything's already fucked up. Acting on this will make it worse."
"I know."
"Then stop." My voice breaks. "Stop looking at me like that. Stop dancing with me. Stop giving me your mother's necklace. Just—stop."
"Can you stop?" He's right in front of me now. "Can you stop thinking about me? Stop wanting me?"
No.
"Yes," I lie.
"All lies." His eyes bore into mine. "You look at me the same way I look at you. Like you're dying for it. Like you'd let me take you right here if I tried."
Heat floods my face. Between my legs.
He's not wrong.
"That doesn't mean we should—"
"Am I the only one who feels this way then?" His voice drops, dangerous. "Because the way you look at me says otherwise."
"I don't, I don't feel—"
"Prove it."
The challenge hangs in the air.
"W-What?"
"Prove you don't want me." He steps closer, backing me toward the stone wall. "Tell me to stop. Push me away. Do anything except stand there lying to both of us."
My back hits the wall, and a startled gasp leaves my lips.
He's so close now I can feel his heat, smell the cigarette smoke and cologne.
Tell him to stop. Push him away. Leave.
I don't move.
"That's what I fucking thought," he growls.
Then he kisses me.
Oh God.
It's rough, desperate, and consuming. His hands are in my hair, on my waist, pulling me against him. His tongue slides into my mouth, demanding and possessive.
I kiss him back just as desperately.
