Page 82 of The Revenge Game

I cannot believe this is happening. My breath comes in short gasps.

“I like you too,” I manage.

Because among all the lies between us, this is definitely the truth.

Justin steps toward me and my heart decides to take an impromptu vacation from its usual rhythm.

His eyes don’t leave mine as he lowers his head toward mine.

“I like you,” he whispers against my lips.

And forget about bananas being sacred.

It’s this kiss that is sacred.

This kiss, where Justin’s lips meet mine with devastating tenderness.

His hand cradles my face, thumb stroking along my jaw with a gentleness that makes my heart stutter.

No one has ever kissed me like this. Like I’m the thing they want most in the world.

Our kiss deepens slowly, and I’m lost in the sensation of Justin’s mouth moving against mine, how his other hand has found its way to my hip, fingers pressing into my skin like he’s afraid I might disappear.

Everything else fades. The past, the future.

Nothing matters but this kiss right now.

Just as I’m feeling I could float away on the gentleness of Justin’s lips, the sweetness ignites into something more desperate.

It’s like someone hit fast-forward on desire. His mouth becomes more insistent against mine, and our kiss turns messier, hungrier, perfect.

It’s gone from an acknowledgment that we like each other to a declaration of how much wewanteach other. We stumble backward, landing on my couch in a tangle of limbs and urgent kisses. Justin braces himself above me, his lips never leaving mine as his hands slide under my shirt.

Oh my god, Justin’s hands, the ones that can throw the perfect spiral pass, are touching me.

When his thumb grazes my nipple, a shudder rips through my entire body, and I can’t help the small groan tumbling out of my mouth in a puff of air.

The noise seems to break something loose in Justin.

Suddenly, he’s kissing me even more desperately.

Frantically. Fervently. Feverishly. Like a man dying of thirst and I’m an oasis he’s just discovered.

His leg is between my thighs, and his hardness presses into my hip, grinding against me in a rhythm that makes my vision blur at the edges.

His tongue does this thing that makes my toes curl, and I thread my fingers through his hair, tugging him even closer.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

Can I have sex with someone when they don’t actually know who I am?

My conscience is saying no. My libido is saying, “Hell yeah.”

Justin took so much from me in my high school years. Perhaps this is a chance for me to claw something back. Dignity. Self-worth.

In fact, isn’t this the complete full circle?

Justin has gone from treating me like I’m worthless to sliding his hands down my ribs, tracing every dip and curve like he’s trying to read a story written in my goosebumps and quickened breath.