Page 17 of Savage Temptation

“It wasn’t your fault. There is one thing that confuses me, though. Why my graduation party?”

His upper lip twitches as he looks away. “Uh, it was a setting I was familiar with, and there was plenty of footage to piece together. Perfect for testing.”

“Oh…”

“Why did you run away the morning after?”

I snort out a sardonic chuckle. “I was scared. I’d just spent the night with my brother’s best friend, and I didn’t know how it was going to play out. You take so many women to bed, I guess a part of me was hoping you wouldn’t realize it was me. Then, when I saw you a few days later, you started being an asshole, and I realized you knew.”

“Fuck—the way I treated you…”

“Can we both stop being sorry and get on with our lives?” I plead. “I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

“So you regret that night ever happened?”

Am I imagining a hurt tone in his voice?

I look down at my toiling hands. “Think of the chaos it caused.”

“Well, I don’t regret it.”

I shake my head in confusion as I bring my eyes to his. “You don’t?”

“Not that it happened. Only that it harmed you.”

I wish I could understand exactly what he’s saying. He should regret our night together.

I should too.

But I don’t.

“The only thing that harmed me was being excluded from your life afterward.”

He looks contemplative, like he wants to tell me a secret. Instead, he does something I never would have expected.

He leans forward, pressing his lips against mine, giving me a kiss so tender and sweet, my mind goes numb. All that exists is him. I forget everything, where we are, what we were even talking about.

His lips are fire, moving slow and sensually against mine. It’s everything I dreamed it would be, but bigger, eclipsing what we had that night, which before this moment seemed impossible.

He turns his face to the side, deepening our connection. Atticus Savage is my world. The only man capable of sating my soul. And he’s kissingme, wantingme.

And I’m ready to be consumed.

His tongue slides against mine, and a guttural moan jolts from my throat.

“God, you’re tender,” he rasps against my mouth, snaking his hand around my neck, as if to hold me in place as he devours me.

How many times have I thought about kissing this man?

How many times has he thought about kissing me?

I pull back suddenly. He looks surprised, his face growing desperate and needy as the seconds pass.

And then I suddenly remember his event. “What about your party?”

“The show will go on without me.”

“No!”