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I relished the pain because it temporarily diminished the pain in my heart.
Would anyone really want to be friends with someone whose family was murdered by an obsessed, crazed stalker who was still out there looking for her?
I should have let him have me because I would never be free of him.
His touch did something to me. It made my heart pound in my chest. The butterflies in my stomach were going crazy and flying south, causing an ache—a needy pressure between my legs.
“You know why. There’s two of you and one of me. You’re going to make me choose and I refuse to do that.”
He closed most of the space between us and flattened his hands on the fridge above my head, trapping me.
I was starting to feel sad again. So I took another gulp, then another to make sure that feeling got washed away.
A pressure grew in my core, like a coil, twisting tighter and tighter the more he devoured me.
I poured everything I felt for him into that kiss. My trust. My desire. I may have even handed over a little bit of my heart.
