“No.”
“But—”
“Do you like him?”
The question hits me like a splash of cold water.
“E-Excuse me??”
“Dane.” His jaw tightens again, that muscle jumping. “He picked you up at the wake. Do you like him?”
I’m almost tempted to think he’s jealous.
Almost.
But since I remember just in time that this is also the same man who thinks I’m ugly—
I let out a nervous laugh even as I wonder why the buzzing panic inside of me always goes quiet like...like this man is my refuge.
Stop it, Mira.
Like seriously.
STOP.
I refocus on his question and decide to take it at face value. “Of course I like—”
His mouth covers mine before I can finish the sentence, and my brain just...stops.
My rescuer...
He’s...kissing me.
Kissing!
Me!
And his lips are so firm and demanding, and is it just me or does his kiss also taste of—wait, wait, wait!
This can’t be happening.
He thinks I’m ugly, and now he’s kissing me?
He wants to marry me off, but now he’s kissing me?
There’s just so, so many questions, all of them impossible to answer, and that’s what gives me just enough strength to push against his chest.
“S-Stop!”
He pulls back immediately, but he doesn’t let me go. His hands are still bracketing me against the wall, and his breathing is uneven, and when he finally speaks—
“Why?”
The tautness of his tone makes my heart for some reason, and instead of telling him that I’ve asked him to stop because I don’t care for his kisses—
“B-Because you think I’m ugly!”
I find myself blurting out the truth—
