He moves quick, closing what small gap there is between us, pulling me forward to meet him so that our faces are three tiny, insignificant, inconsequential millimeters apart. His eyes are on fire, his breath hot and fanning my face as he growls, “I’ll kiss you, then. Stop me if you don’t want it. Just say the fucking word.” A split second ago, my heart was a functioning, healthy muscle. Admittedly, it was laboring a little under the pressure of this strange encounter, but it was still doing its job. The moment Dash’s fingers make contact with the back of my neck and his rough, angry voice hits
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