I can’t focus on anything except how close he is, how good he smells. “Luce,” he says in the lowest voice. It’s almost a whisper. “Can I…” My mouth is dry as a desert. “I should be getting to my date.” Something shifts in his expression, turning sinister. “Don’t.” “Why?” I quirk a brow, the most movement I can manage. “Are you jealous or some—” “Yes.” He steps in, our chests brushing. Bending down, he plants his hands on either side of the sink, trapping me. “Yes, I’m jealous. I want to be the only one who ever sees you this close.” His hand finds my jaw, angling my head as he leans in. My
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