She hated that she remembered how his hands felt brushing against her most sensitive skin, how lush his mouth felt against hers. She hated how he was looking at her, with that damned Disney-fied, wide-eyed innocence. Like he hadn’t somehow wiggled his way into her life and exploded it from the inside. She’d thought he might be a virus from the moment she’d seen him, and she’d been right—she just hadn’t realized how fast-acting he’d be.
