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“What can I say? I’m a Scorpio. Blame it on the stars.” He gives me a funny look. “Your birthday’s in May, dude. You’re a fucking Taurus.”
“Because in the end, the only thing we have to fear in the dark are the things we run from in the light of day.”
“Stop me,” I tell him gravelly, bitterly, desperately, “because I fucking can’t.”
“I hate you.” I smile a sad, breathy smile against his bared teeth. “Show me.” Another growl scrapes out of him at the same time his lips come crashing down on mine.
“I hate you.” If this is hate, baby, I think, licking across his teeth, I don’t know if I’d survive your love.