His arms drop to his sides, and he prowls forward. “Fine, you want me to set the record straight? Here it is, straight and clear: I have imagined giving you lilac wine a thousand times.” He comes right up to me, and something about his agitated mood has me backing up. “I imagined slipping it to you just as Mara did, coaxing you into drinking it when you didn’t know any better.” My back hits a wall, and Des pins me in with his arms. “I’ve even had it prepared before,” he says, reaching out and stroking the column of my throat with his thumb. “I had it in my fridge back on Catalina Island, and
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