A squeak comes from the back of my throat, but then I lean into it. If this is the only chance I’ll ever get to kiss Dex Mitchale, I’m going to take it. I expect him to pull away, to keep it short and sweet, but surprising me again, his tongue parts my lips and dives into my mouth. My hands grip his suit jacket as I kiss him back. He kisses me like I’m breakable. It’s slow, sweet, consuming. I hate it. It’s the worst thing he’s ever unknowingly done. Because as we stand at an altar, promising ourselves to each other and sealing it with a kiss, my heart has never experienced such pain.
