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A gradual consumption.

A slow devouring.

A meticulous unstitching of everything I knew before he put his mouth on mine.

It’s this overflow of longing, desperation and frustration. All my walls collapsing in on themselves while he breaks me apart and puts me back together. With his tongue. His lips. Hiskiss.

Right now, I don’t know how to be anything other than the mess he’s made of me. I don’t know how to do anything but sustain myself on his kisses. His silent promises and loud breathing. His soft licks and unyielding embrace.

He has me wrapped up in him so tight it feels like his arms are exactly where I’m supposed to be.

It’s all spellbinding.

Too much. Too much. Too much.

Why does kissing the man I hate feel so damn good?

“You don’t hate me, Delilah.”

His whispered words pull me out of my head. Out of my haze. I trace my eyes over his face, wondering how he just read my mind when all he does is smirk.

“You were saying it. In between kisses.” He smiles and another flood of emotions hits me without warning.

Adonis is beautiful enough on his own, but adding a genuine smile to his already perfect features feels unfair.

It’s a smile I’ve seen in the moments between our bickering. It feels intimate. It is. His smile feels like home. Like every night we’ve spent at the piano and every dinner he’s made me share with him.

Smooth fingers stroke my chin and move up as he whispers, “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

“I don’t care.”Lie. A blatant one he calls me out on right away.

“It upsets you because you care, menace.” He’s not asking me but telling me. And it’s the truth. I care about this man. So, so deeply. And I wish I didn’t.

“I know it doesn’t change anything, but we’re not engaged. We’re supposed to be, but…” His voice trails, and he shakes his head. “All I’m saying is that I didn’t cheat on her by falling in love with you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Engaged or not, they’re still destined to end up together. My indignation over that fact doesn’t let me linger on his tortured confession.

“No.” His forehead is at my temple. “But I still want you to know.”

“I hate this,” I whisper as a fresh wave of tears makesme turn away from him. “Why did you keep me? Why did you make me like you when you knew it was going to be like this? It’s so selfish, Adonis.” I shove at his chest. “You’re so selfish.”

The strength of my ire is no match for the wall of muscle shielding his body. He’s immovable while I stand there, hitting him. Hating him.

I don’t stop until my shoulders burn from swinging lopsided blows at him.

His smile turns sad, and he gathers me close, holding me as my heart slows from racing to an acceptable thrum.

Then he looks at me, locs falling into his face and longing etched across his features.

“You killed someone?” In retrospect, shooting Percy in the kneecap doesn’t seem so bad. But his blood is splattered along the skirt of my dress, and I would forever have beef with him for that.

“Yes.” He answers me like I just asked him if he wanted sugar in his coffee. The absence of remorse on his face pushes me to ask another question.

“Who?”

“The men you were supposed to marry.” His hand finds my hair again before moving down to cradle the side of my face. “All except one.”

All my thoughts are out of order. It’s him touching me, staring at me like he doesn’t want to look away and the conviction in his voice. I’m so fucking easy when it comes to his unhinged behavior, it’s embarrassing. Because I don’t want him to stop touching me and I want to hear exactly how those men died. But first, “How did you know?”