Page 70 of Ghosts Don't Cry

“You want the truth?Fine.” His breath is hot against my face. “Ididwant you to see. I wanted you to fucking burn the way I have every second since I got back to this town.”

My heart pounds so hard it hurts. The admission hangs between us. This close I can see the war happening behind his eyes.

“Then now what?”

“Now you walk away, and forget I fucking exist.”

But I don’t do that. Instead, I reach up and stroke my fingers along his jaw, following the same path Kate’s had earlier. The muscle beneath my touch tenses, and his eyes close.

“You never let anyone touch you the way you let me.”

His eyes snap open, and what I see there makes my stomach flip. Heat. A hunger so desperate and wanting, it’s impossible to hide.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” I whisper.

His head dips, breath hot against my cheek. “You’re not wrong.”

His mouth slams against mine, and anything I was planning to say splinters. The kiss isn’t just rough, it’s devastating, and hard enough to bruise. His teeth catch my lower lip in a sharp bite that sends a jolt of heat straight through me.

I gasp, and he takes advantage of it, his tongue sweeping inside. The taste of him crashes over me—whiskey, salt, and that unique flavor of him that burns through my bloodstream. My heart pounds against my ribs in a wild, frantic rhythm that matches the way he’s kissing me.

My hands lift, fingers spreading out across his chest, searching for something to hold onto as he tilts my head back, deepening the kiss until there’s nothing left but sensation. The scrape of stubble against my skin. The growl vibrating from his throat, low and wrecked. The way his fingers tighten in myhair, tugging just hard enough to make my scalp sting and my stomach twist in anticipation.

I don’t know where I end and he begins.

And I don’t care.

His hands drop to my waist, and he shoves me harder against the wall. The cold of the stone a cruel contrast to the molten heat of his body pressing into mine.

“You wanted to play with fire?” His voice is thick and low, a warning and a promise wrapped in velvet.

My pulse hammers in my throat. I should be scared at the aggression he’s displaying, and the way he has me pinned. But fear is the last thing I feel.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

He laughs, a short raspy sound that vibrates through his chest into mine, and his grip tightens, thumbs stroking over my hips, slow and teasing. Then he moves again.

Before I can blink, I’m spinning, my world tilting. My palms slam against the wall automatically as it rushes to meet my face. A heartbeat later, he’s there, his hard body flush against mine again. His dick presses against my ass as he leans closer, his lips touching my ear.

“You wanted my attention, Lily. Now you have it.”

A shudder tears through me at the way his breath brushes over my skin, my fingers curling into fists when his teeth nip the base of my throat. Pain flashes through me, spiraling into heat so fierce my legs almost give out. My body responds without permission, nipples tightening against the front of my dress, butterflies taking off in my stomach, and the ache between my legs intensifies with remembered need.

This is dangerous. This is reckless. This is everything that I was afraid would happen.

And I. Don’t. Care.

“Let’s see if you can handle me now.”

His hands move. One splays across my waist, the heat of his palm burning through the thin fabric. The other slides up my ribs, calloused fingertips grazing the underside of my breast and making my breath hitch. My back arches into him before I can stop it.

“I could always handle you.” The words come out breathless and defiant.

His laugh is dark, wicked. “Then prove it.” He mirrors my words from earlier.

His hand drops from my waist and strokes up my thigh, drawing my dress up inch by slow, torturous inch. The night air against my bare skin is ice compared to the furnace of his body behind me.

I should stop this. I should turn around and face him. But I don’t.