Page 58 of Broken Dream

Rage even.

But beneath all of that, I sense something tender. Something faint and almost fragile.

Longing. Need. Hope.

He deepens the kiss, and I throw inhibition to the wind. It’s not as if Ralph can see us now. My heart beats wildly as I kiss him back. His tongue is both harsh and smooth. He tastes of tomatoes and wine, of lust and savagery. Of…Jason.

He presses our bodies together. A low groan escapes him, vibrating through me and making me quake.

But then he breaks the kiss, his breath ragged. He pulls away slightly. His green gaze is intense, almost pained. Emotions flicker across his face, all unreadable.

He swallows hard, a muscle in his jaw ticking. Then without a word, he turns away abruptly and strides toward the door.

Without thinking, I follow him. Grab his arm. Jerk him back toward me. “Don’t go, Jason. Please.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says.

I widen my eyes. “I’m not asking for anything. You can’t leave.” I run my fingers up and down his arm. “Something’s bothering you. Let me help.”

“Help?” He laughs. “You psychiatrists are all the same.”

I tilt my head. “I’m a first-year medical student, Jason. I’m far from a psychiatrist. I just want to help you.”

His green eyes darken. “There’s only one thing you can do to help me right now, Angie, and it’s not talking.”

I bite my lower lip, swallowing. “Then let me. I want to help you in any way I can.”

His lips are on mine once more, his tongue devouring me, until he breaks the kiss again with a smack. “Be sure,” he says, his voice rough. “Be fucking sure, because once we start this, we’re not stopping.”

“I—”

“I don’t care that you’re my student. I don’t care that I’m your teacher. I don’t care about any of it. So be fucking sure.”

I’m not sure. Not even slightly.

Except that I am.

I want this.

I want him.

And damn the consequences.

“Kiss me,” I say. “Kiss me, Jason, and let me show you how sure I am.”

His eyes flicker with something like relief before he pulls me against him, his hands rugged and rough. His lips collide with mine, a storm of passion and unspoken promises. He touches my cheeks, my shoulders, my arms. My heart drums out erratic beats that thump all the way through me.

He pulls slightly away and stares at me with those intense eyes clouded with desire yet still carrying a hint of vulnerability.

And I see him.

I see Jason.

He’s strong yet broken. Guarded yet yearning for something more.

Does he see me?

Does he see that I’m not untried but still pretty innocent? That I’m imperfect too?