Page 27 of Poison Touch (Monarch Vipers #1)

KINSLEY

Rain pelts my skin. Each droplet feels like a needle stinging my flesh. But somehow, the pain reassures me that I’m still here. For that small moment, I was lost to him. Even though it was brief, it happened. I let it happen.

I let him touch me.

I let him kiss me.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Bolts of jagged white light streak around me.

The chaotic ocean carries angry waves crashing against the shore.

In bare feet, I make a run for home and don’t stop until I burst through the door.

My uncle is asleep on the couch and doesn’t stir.

I head straight for my room to take a hot shower and try to process what in the actual fuck just happened. Or try to forget.

I turn the shower handle to hot. Steam floats around me, warming my freezing skin.

Stripping off my wet clothes, I pile them on the tile floor.

Still trying to catch my breath, I turn the lever to the center.

The water cools just enough that the heat is bearable.

I stand under the stream, begging it to wash away more than the sand caking my feet.

I want it to erase the past twenty minutes of my life.

Fucking Edge!

I’m just as furious at him as I am at myself. He put me in a vulnerable position. He made me want him. That, more than anything, I hate admitting to myself.

I should have done something to avoid the entire situation—brought my leg around the back of his, then tossed his ass to the floor, or brought up my hands to block his contact. Anything! But I just stood there and let him touch, kiss, and feel me.

Soaping my loofah, I scrub everywhere he touched me: my waist, my neck, my lips, scouring my skin until it’s pink and raw.

After adjusting the water to a cooler temperature, I slide down the slick wall to the floor.

Water cascades down over my head. My black hair falls around my face, hiding my shame from no one.

Hell, he was just fucking Brielle a few days ago, and then I let him kiss me? What the fuck is wrong with me? What was I thinking? Easy...I wasn’t.

The worst part is I can still feel his body pressed against mine.

The best part is I can still feel his body pressed against mine.

No amount of water or soap can ever wash those feelings away.

I climb out of the lukewarm water, towel off, and dress for bed.

I'm still reeling from the way the night ended.

I sit at the desk, open the jar of moisturizer, and apply it to my face, smoothing the cream over my skin.

A knock at the door draws me up short of cursing myself more for being so stupid.

“Yeah, come in.”

Uncle Trey opens my door and peers in. “Hey, just making sure you made it home okay.”

“Yeah, fine.”

He walks over to the window and checks the lock. “Quite a storm out there.”

“Yeah, I made it home just in time,” I lie. The last thing I need is to have him worrying about me.

He takes a moment longer than usual to study my face. I have no idea what he sees—fury, another lie, unshed tears? “All right, we’ll talk tomorrow. Good night.”

“Good night.”

“I’ll be just down the hall if you need me.”

“Thanks.” I scoff. “Hopefully, I’ll let both of us sleep through the night.”

He smiles warmly and then closes the door.

I crawl into bed. Burying my head in the pillow, I scream until my lungs are on fire.

For such an asshole, Edge was warm and tender as he ran his hands over the bare skin of my arm and waist.As his fingers splayed across my bare skin, the pressure from his touch increased.

It felt good, more than good. I hate the fact that I wanted more.

I wanted everything he was willing to give—and take.

Gentleness was not on his agenda that day with Brielle.

But who wants to be treated like a glass flower anyway?

The way he grabbed me and held me to his chest, there was nothing gentle about that move.

He was taking what he wanted. And my mind went from zero to one hundred, imagining what else those hands were capable of. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Practice, Kinsley. He’s had loads of fucking practice. You even witnessed the deed firsthand.

If I let him take complete control, we both would have been in serious trouble. We would both have ravished each other, most likely resulting in the beach having one less lifeguard stand.

I contemplate calling Luca to confess that I'm a complete idiot. He would no doubt agree with me as soon as I told him who I did the kissing with, but then he’d be all about wanting details and pics, and as soon as I told him what Edge looked like and how good his touch felt, he’d be condemning my choice to run.

No! It can never happen again. No touching, no kissing, even no thinking about him, nothing. There should be a morning-after pill for fucking bad decisions—or a spell to forget how he felt, smelled, and the way his lips were pure passion and desire.

Okay, that’s it. Enough. I shut Edge and everything about the night out of my head. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the storm thrashing outside my window.

Tomorrow, I may or may not tell Luca how stupid I am. For tonight, I’m going to fall asleep and dream about witches, fairies, and dragons, anything but Ledger Hunt.

At ten a.m., I pull into the parking lot of the dojo.

Luca isn’t here yet. I unlock the door, go in, then lock it behind me.

After throwing my bag in the corner, I set up the mats for fighting.

The sun decided to show its bright, happy face after last night’s storm.

Its rays stream through the windows over the wooden floor and partially laid out mats.

Stupid storm. Stupid lifeguard stand. Stupid Edge.

Stupid me.

There’s a knock on the window as I unfold the last mat. Luca is on the other side of the glass, waving his arms like a madman.“Hurryup,”he mouths.

The second I unlock the door, he pushes it open, throws his bag into oblivion, and tackles me to the mat. “God, I missed you.”

“Me too. You have no idea.” We’re wrapped in each other’s arms like it’s been a hundred years since we last saw each other. It feels like it, anyway.

He raises himself to his elbows. “I think I’m digging the hair.” He lifts the bunch that lies over my shoulder on the mat. “Yeah, I’m definitely digging it. You look hot.” He smacks a kiss on my cheek.

After everything else this week, I forgot he hadn’t seen my hair in person. Either I’ve gotten used to it, or the drastic change has been replaced with other shit. “Thanks.”

His face turns serious. He plays with the loose strands. “So, how are you holding up? And don’t say fine.”

I shrug, not committing to an answer. I hate it when he worries about me. He doesn’t have to, but if he lost one of his parents, I wouldn’t be able to help myself either.

“Kins! I’m not messing around. How are you really?”

“Hanging in there,” I finally admit. “Being busy with school helps, but it’s worse at night. The nightmares come and go. But Uncle Trey has been amazing.”

Luca nods. “Thanks for telling me. Your dad was awesome, and I never want you to feel like you have to brush off your feelings about losing him with me.” He holds up his hand. “In fact, you better not or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Thanks.”

He rolls off me so that we’re lying next to each other. “So how about we kick each other’s asses for the next couple of hours, order a pizza, eat in our skivvies, and you tell me all about your week?”

I want to tell him everything, but I’m not sure how much I’m ready to put on the table yet.

I definitely can’t tell him about the kiss.

Or how Edge touched me. What would I tell him?

And why do I feel the need to hold back secrets about that asshole from Luca of all people? “Sounds like the perfect plan.”

For the next two hours, we stretch, fight, kick each other’s asses with weapons, grapple, and beat the ever-loving shit out of each other. I’ve missed his familiar touch so badly that I haven’t even realized I was starving for him.

He spins, throwing out his leg, and swipes my feet out from under me. I go down hard. And lie on the mat, unable to move. He jumps on top of me, straddling me. He’s so proud of himself, he can’t help the enormous smile turning up his full mouth.

“Why do you have to be gay?” I cry.

He places his hands on my shoulders. “Why do you have to be a girl?”

I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration. “Fair point.”

We could be a couple if Luca were straight or I were a guy. There’d be no Edge, no impossible feelings, no difficulties.Life would be so simple. If only.

He grabs his phone out of his bag along with his water bottle. “The usual?”

Our usual consisted of a large pie, extra garlic, all the meats except anchovies, and all the veggies except black olives. “You know it.”

We clean up the dojo, putting away the mats and weapons. We throw our last hits as the pizza guy knocks on the door. Luca hands the guy cash, takes the pizza, and thanks him. I’m already on the one mat we purposely left out with our water bottles and napkins.

“Did you ever notice that there’s only a small selection of fine pizza delivery boys?” he asks.

I make a point of looking up to the ceiling. “Ah, no, I have failed to notice that tragedy.”

He plops down across from me. “And what a tragedy it is.”

He sets the pizza on the mat and opens the lid. The steaming pie loaded with meats and veggies smells incredible. He places a bag next to it. I grab for the unexpected treat.

“You better not,” Luca warns.

I hold the bag to my chest. “I have to. You’re not going to make me suffer, are you?”

“Fine.” He picks up a slice of pizza, folds it in half, and then takes a bite. His eyes roll up to the ceiling in delight.