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“Don’t,” I say, shaking my head. “You’ll regret it.”
“What if I didn’t?” she whispers, sliding her fingers under the sleeve of my shirt.
“You will.”
“What if I don’t care?”
I hold my breath as she caresses skin I’ve spent years wanting to give her. It doesn’t feel like it does in my fantasies, though. There, we don’t have consequences or broken history fighting against us.
But I don’t stop her, and soon the front of her body is aligned with mine. Her curves press against me as she frames my face and forces me to confront the very thing I have to resist. I was bad for her before. I’m poison now. Stained. Charred. Human filth that—
“I hope you know how beautiful you are,” she whispers. “You always were, but now?”
I close my eyes, trying to breathe through the sting of her words.
“Tristan. Look at me.”
I can’t.
I won’t.
“Look. At. Me.”
I shake my head. She doesn’t know. She thinks she does, but she doesn’t. No one does. How dirty. How chipped and frayed and bro—
Warmth spreads into my lips, and I’m paralyzed by the soft sensation of her mouth. Foreign and exhilarating, kissing me, blessing me with something I could never deserve.
She holds me in place, deepening the connection with a moan. Her fingers lace behind my neck to lock me against her as her gentle kiss becomes more frantic. Pent-up hunger floods through me as well, and I back her against the vanity, threading my hands in her hair. She tastes so good. Sweeter than the ripest raspberries. Intoxicating.
I lift her to the counter, and she braces her legs behind my thighs to draw me in. Gasping, she begins a slow rock against me. Over and over, her hips unleash sharp surges of pleasure through my starved body.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” she breathes through another demanding kiss, and her urgency makes it clear she intends to take what she wants right here, right now. She grips my shirt, and I let her rip it over my head. Her hands run down my chest and around to my back as I grab a fistful of her sweatshirt.
I should stop this. I need to stop. It’s not right. She’s with Pierce. Being an asshole doesn’t justify cheating, and I’m no better for her. She deserves a prince. Neither of us comes close.
But I can’t stop. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything besides fear and pain.
Her fingers claw along my back as she writhes against me, triggering wave after wave of intense heat. I’m already so hard, and when her palm slides to the front and slips into my jeans, I’m done. She can have me. Whatever she wants. WhatI’vewanted for so fucking long. We—
“I want you, Tristan.”
“I want you, too,” I murmur against her neck.
“No, I mean for real. I want to be together. Officially.”
I flinch and pull back.
“What?”
Her soft gaze hurts when it lands on me.
“I’ve wanted it since we were kids. I tried to hate you, but I couldn’t. You were right. I would have waited for you. Iwillwait for you. You’re it for me. You’re the—”
“No.” I pull away, breathing hard.
“I know it’ll be hard, but we’ll make it work. We have to because I love—”
“Don’t.”
