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I know it sounds cliché, but it’s true.
He kisses me like I’m everything he’s ever wanted and hoped for. It’s a different kind of kiss. One full of fear, and longing, and regret, and passion.
I never want it to end.
I stand on my tiptoes so he doesn’t have to strain to my lower height as much.
He groans, his fingers digging into the skin of my back where his hand has found its way under my shirt.
My breasts push against his chest and my body aches all over.
More. I need more. So much more than he’s willing to give—and me too, for that matter.
I don’t want a relationship.
Been there, done that, never going down that road again.
But Jace?
I want him like I’ve never wanted anything or anyone before.
We’re both complicated people, and maybe that’s why we’ve been drawn to each other from the start.
We’re made of the same stuff.
Pain.
Loathing.
Anger.
Betrayal.
He’s my mirror.
My fingers wind into his shirt, wrinkling the fabric as I try to get impossibly closer to him.
I’m sinking inside him.
Lost.
Lost.
Lost.
I’m lost in him, and I don’t want to be found.
His hands move higher, settling just below my breasts. I shiver from his touch, my lips moving against his, perfectly in sync.
I don’t know who pulls away first, but the moment the cool air touches my lips, I duck my head down, burrowing against his shirt so he can’t see my face.
I don’t want him to look into my eyes and see the swirl of emotion and confusion. He’ll panic, I know it, because I’m panicking.
I don’t want to feel for him what I do, but I’m helpless to stop it.
I’m falling, and I don’t see the end—which terrifies me, because I could crash land and never even know it’s coming.
I like to be prepared and ever since Jace stepped into my life I’ve been completely unprepared.
