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A strong arm surrounds my waist with ease. I feel his warmth and smell his familiar, head-turning scent before seeing him. My heart does that slight jump that turns my insides upside down.
I step back, but I can’t go far since he’s gripping me tight by the waist. When I lift my head, I’m greeted by the smokiest, most turbulent eyes. Something unreadable forms a sheen in his gaze.
A week.
It’s been less than a week since I saw him, but it feels like forever.
That strong jaw, the straight nose, and the jet black hair seem like a far, distant memory.
Only… they’re not.
Aiden is dashing in the school’s uniform, but he’s irresistible in simple jeans and a black T-shirt. He carries the nonchalant vibe so well, it’s almost unfair.
My gaze locks on the cut near the corner of his mouth. I shouldn’t be feeling guilty considering that I’ve done nothing wrong, but I still do. It doesn’t delight me to see him hurt.
I’m not that person.
The chaos of the drinking competition, the music, and the chants cease to exist.
It’s only me and him now.
Me and my tormenter.
I reach up and touch the pad of my forefinger to the cut on his lip. “Does it hurt?”
He yanks my hand free and holds it prisoner in his.
“You’re getting good at lying, sweetheart.” His eyes gleam, but they’re not playful. They’re downright sinister. “You got me for a second there.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to pretend that you care about me.”
He thought I was pretending? Screw him.
And screw me for actually having that lapse of judgement.
I lift my chin. “I don’t care about you.”
“Is that so?”
“Not at all, Aiden. You’re nothing to me.”
“Nothing, huh?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
I don’t get a warning.
Aiden’s lips crash to mine in an animalistic frenzy. I don’t get to think or breathe.
All I can do is… feel.
Still holding me by the waist, his other hand grabs my nape in a possessive hold.
Aiden doesn’t kiss me, he claims me. His teeth nibble on my bottom lip before he thrusts his tongue inside my mouth.
It’s a clashing of tongues and teeth and lips.
