“These little things you do that mess with my head.” Hand raking through his hair, he paced. “There’s a violence in my blood. This rage that twists in my gut, and it makes me sick. I’m fucking sick when it comes to you. That I could even fathom breaking his neck …” He paused his pacing, eyes lost to whatever images spun through his head, like he could vividly see himself in them. “I can’t control it,” he said, curling his hands to tight fists. “I can’t reel it in because I still feel you. I still smell that nauseating sweet scent on your skin that drives me fucking crazy. That sickening shade
...more
