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“You could have leveled him,” I say, holding his stare.
“Easily.”
“He wasn’t always like this.”
“He was. He just hid it from you.”
“Do you regret kissing me?”
He flinches in surprise. “Yes.”
“You’re lying.”
His jaw tightens.
I step closer but he doesn’t retreat.
He hisses in a breath when I run my fingers over the marks on his side but he doesn’t stop me. I drag my touch up his chest, enjoying the solid warmth of his body on the path to his face. My fingers graze the stubble on his chin before covering his hand holding the ice pack in place. I lower the ice as my gaze sinks to his lips.
“I don’t regret it,” I say softly. “In fact, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
I find his eyes again, and my heart races at the hunger raging back at me.
“I dreamt about it last night,” I say, running my finger over his bottom lip. I study the motion with careful precision. “And now, I fantasize about it.”
His gaze is burning when I look up again.
“I’m not good for you, Iz,” he says in a hoarse voice. “I wasn’t before. I’m poison now.”
My stomach flutters at the vibration of his words against my fingers. What would the rest of him feel like? Now that I’ve started, I never want to stop touching him.
“Hmm…” I say, pretending to think. “Another thing you’re not. I’ll add it to the list.”
The slightest smile pokes through the dark cloud on his face. Those dimples… not even fair. I spread my palm over one, caressing the right side of his face.
He closes his eyes and leans into my touch. The heat of his skin and the scrape of two-day scruff feel so amazing, soright.How is he not mine?
“I thought you hated me,” he says, meeting my gaze again.
“I do.”
His smile grows into a smirk but fades when I run my thumb over the gentle arch of his lips. After a scorching pause, he pulls back, and I drop my arm with a sigh.
“Do you need a ride to work today?” I ask.
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
I nod. “Let me know what time.”
