Page 125 of Toxic Kiss

PROPERTY OF CYRUS VALE

My stomach drops.

“The fuck I am,” I snap, lunging for the washcloth.

The water runs too hot, and steam curls up as I scrub my cheek with soap much harder than necessary. Frothy, grey bubbles appear. I want to peel the whole moment off my skin.

The words are still there, clear as day. Of course they are. Fucking Cyrus. I rub harder. It smears a little, blurs at the edges, but it stays—just like him. He infects everything he touches in my life.

“Come off,” I mutter, my breath shaking slightly. “Come the hell off.”

You knew this was going to happen.

I shake as the annoying, quiet, and completely unforgiving little voice speaks the truth.

My grip tightens on the cloth as I glare at my reflection.

“Shut up.”

You walked straight into it.

“I said shut up.”

You didn’t trip. You didn’t get caught off guard. You put yourself back in his orbit. You can say you did it for the greater good of the company, or because your father asked, but you know the truth...you hoped this would happen. Deep down, you wanted it.

With a yell, I throw the cloth at the mirror. It hits with a thud, sliding down and leaving my image distorted with a dirty, sudsy smear. My hands drop, my chest rises and falls too quickly. I’m on the verge of a panic attack, but I haven’t had one of these in years. I sit on the edge of the tub with my head in my hands and focus on my breathing.

The effort is futile. Nothing helps to wipe away the sensation of Cy’s hands on my skin, the dark and dirty words he whispered in my ear, or how he makes me feel…

“I can’t believe I caved,” I say, louder now, the words sinking deep. “What the hell was I thinking?”

I’m not. That’s the problem. I don’t think when Cyrus touches me. And I’ve never been able to resist when he says my name as if it belongs to him. Cy pulls me in with that sexy smile, those sweet words, and that lost look in his eyes. Then he rips the rug out.

Raising my head, the words on my cheek mock me. God. I drag my hands through my hair and stand to pace. It’s possible that movement will somehow help me escape. But I already know that I’ll never be able to outrun the memory.

“I know better,” I bite out. “I know exactly what he does to me, and I not only came back here…I opened the door and invited the demon in. Fuck.”

I laugh, but there is nothing funny about the situation.

“Congratulations, Haven,” I mutter, pacing faster now. “You’ve officially learned—fucking nothing.”

Years of distance. Years of rebuilding. Years of telling myself I am stronger, smarter, past wanting him…and all it takes is one look. One touch. One him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I folded like a cheap suit, proving that it doesn’t matter how much time passes. Cy is forever in my blood. Cyrus-The-Mother-Fucking-Virus.

Maybe I’m the one who needs to talk to a doctor. Is there a procedure that can pull the memories and feelings out of my head and put them in the trash bin on my computer? Then, I can delete them forever.

Fuck, that would be nice.

“This is a pattern,” I whisper, but it sounds more like a confession than a realization. “You know this is a pattern.” The words echo in my head.

“God, I’m so fucking weak.”

Cyrus is a storm sweeping me away. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask, doesn’t soften. He just fucking takes.

My gaze returns to the mirror and to the smear of black ink still haunting my cheek. Something inside me fractures, leaving me teetering on the edge of a cliff with jagged rocks below.

“He’s done something to me,” I whisper, but even as I say it out loud, I know it’s a lie.

He hasn’t done this alone. I’ve let him. I meet him in the middle of this chaos every time.