“Why did you kiss him?” My chest heaves from the proximity and the hot tug of tension between us. “I just told you.” “The truth, Summer.” With another step, I bump into the couch. The lack of space is hindering any logical thought. “He’s a good kisser—” He punctuates my sentence by pressing his hips to mine and driving me into the back of the couch. Searing, solid weight cages me in, and all my resistance to him goes up in flames when all six-foot-four inches of him hovers over me.
