I hate that I’m flustered. He doesn’t deserve to see me flustered.
He deserves nothing.
“What kind of sick fantasy world do you live in? That kiss had nothing to do with you.” I don’t move a muscle, denying him the reaction he craves. He wants me to melt. To shiver. He wants our near proximity to do something to me, and I’ll die before letting him win.
His deep laugh sounds in my ear, his breath gliding down my neck, and he pulls back. His eyes drop to my mouth the next second, and he stares—and when I say stare, I mean he looks at my mouth like it’s the only view worth looking at in the universe.
His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and my focus falls to his mouth. Christ, his lips look soft. I wonder if he still kisses the same. Did he kiss many other girls while he was gone?
What the fuck?
Stop looking at his mouth.
“A fantasy world, huh?” he rasps, his mouth pulling into a cunning grin. “Seems to me like you’re the one fantasizing right now…”
I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to the punch.
“Do you remember what it was like?” He nudges a piece of my hair behind my ear, and I avoid his gaze, looking down at my feet. He doesn’t allow me to escape for long, though, tilting my chin back up with his index and forcing our eyes to lock.
“I do,” he breathes. “I remember you riding my cock in the janitor’s closet at three in the morning, begging me to let you come.”
I muffle a gasp.
He really went there.
“I remember your lips…” His thumb grazes along my bottom lip at the same time, and goose bumps cover my entire body.
I have to move away.
I shouldn’t be this close to him.
This isn’t right.
“I remember what it felt like to kiss you.” He peels his eyes off my mouth, staring me dead in the eyes to see if he’s getting to me. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to weaponize our history, to tug at my heartstrings by bringing up memories of how happy we were before everything went to shit.
“I remember touching your skin.” He cups my cheek, slowly tracing my jawline with his finger. I notice the sad smile on his face, and I understand…
He might be trying to get to me…
But this is getting to him, too.
“I remember your teary eyes when I first told you I loved you.”
I need to get the hell out of here.
Move, Dia.
Run.
He’s quiet for a moment, searching for a drop of emotion in my eyes, but he’s wasting his time. I had to learn to master my poker face after he left. I couldn’t walk around letting people know how I felt. They were already worried about me.
“I remember everything, Dia. Every-fucking-thing,” he whispers, but it sounds like a plea. He’s begging me to tell him that I remember, too. That we still have a future.
Chance was right.
Finn wants me back.
Shit, Chance. He must be wondering what’s taking so long.