“Dorian,” she responded. Then her fingers found my chin and pulled my gaze down. My throat bobbed. A pathetic apology for what I was so close to doing. “I’m not answering that question,” I said firmly. “You haven’t even answered mine.” I was beyond flustered. “If this is your way of torturing me, it’s working. Because I lose all ability to lie when it comes to you—” “Do you ever stop talking?” she exhaled before grabbing the sides of my coat and pulling me down, crashing her lips against mine. The rain seemed to cheer behind us as my shoulders fell backward into the glass. My inner conflict
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