“You!” I scream out thunderously. “You are what is wrong with me!”
Our faces are inches apart and we're both breathing heavily in each other's space. I fight the urge to breathe in her scent of lavender and cherries.
Her pupils widen at my outburst, but she doesn't budge an inch. “Me?” Her voice comes out quiet, almost like a whisper, but still sarcastic at the same time.
“Yes, you!” I walk closer to her and she instinctively backs away, her back hitting my wall as I tower over her.
I don't stop speaking. “With the way you avoid everything around you and pretend like nothing affects you—”
“Because it doesn't.” She cuts me off, her voice defiant, but her stature small.
“Oh yeah?” I ask, dropping my tone lower and she nods.
My hands make their way above her shoulders, pressing against the wall. I feel her breath hitch as I lean in against the shell of her ear. “So, I don't affect you?”
“No,” she says shakily and part of me wants to keep going, to torture her, because I know how much I'm bothering her right now.
I just can't though, not when she's saying no and being so adamant. Everything is a game with her and I, but when it comes to being close to her like this, I can't play anymore.
I slowly move my head back so I'm facing her again and withdraw my hands back to my sides. “Okay,” I say with a heavy breath.
I turn around—or at least I try to—until I feel myself being turned back around and a pair of warm lips engulfing my own. My body reacts before my mind does and I instantly kiss her back. How could I not?
Her hand moves to my neck, cupping the back of it and mine move to her waist. I pull her impossibly closer to myself as I feel her tongue delving into my mouth and I fight back with my own. Clouds of desire and pure, unadulterated excitement rattles my bones.
Why would I deprive myself of something that I clearly enjoy?
I can taste her watermelon ChapStick and it's only spurring me further. She must feel the same because I feel myself being pinned to the wall and I groan out against her mouth.
I can feel her smirking through her kisses and it's the hottest thing ever.
“This doesn't mean I like girls,” I mumble against her lips, my nails digging into her waist as I kiss her harder.
“This doesn't mean I likeyou,” She retorts against my lips.
Yes, I hate Adaline Emery and I could hate her for the rest of my life, but it still won't ever bury the urge I have to kiss her every time I see her.
Chapter TWENTY-THREE
A d a l i n e
Howam I here again? Kissing Juliette Kingston and enjoying it…no, actually I'm basking in it—in all the glory of her hands roaming around my body and mine tangled in her golden locks.
I can't deny myself of this any longer; I like kissing Juliette. That doesn't mean I like her, only her lips—her soft lips that are bruising mine right now.
“I don't like you,” she mumbles and then detaches her lips from mine. I want to whine, but before I can, she's attached them to my neck.
Oh God.
“You just like kissing me,” I retort, half mocking, half groaning.
She's so good at that—nibbling on my neck like she wants to devour me and acting as if she's been thirsty for decades and is finally getting a drink.
Her lips and teeth are grazing against every inch of my neck and her other hand is in my hair.
“Exactly,” she mumbles against my neck and I can feel her smiling into it. “No one can ever know about this.”
Her warning goes half unheard as I'm too busy enjoying the way her lips feel as she drags them against my collarbone. However, the part of my brain that does hear it sends a pang to my chest; it's small and unpronounced, but it's still there.
