“Pogue, kiss me . . .”
32
CARWYNN
Pogue lookedlike I’d slapped him.
His features were an alarming mix of confusion, irritation, and something feral, all at once.
“For fuck’s sake Pogue, just kiss me!” I needed this over with. “I’m drugged and it’ll break the spell! Just do it.Please.”
A wave of concern shadowed his forehead, smothering all other emotions. I knew he’d normally hide any evidence that he was a living, feeling creature. But right there, I saw a glimpse of it.
Two hands shot up to my face, pulling at the soft skin under my eyes.
Was he inspecting my pupils?
“Who drugged you? When?” he asked sternly, low tone venomous.
“No—not like that,” I scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Breena tricked me and Aine with Liplock potion. Her deranged version of an exciting night. But my senses are spiraling and I’m gonna lose my shit. So, pleaseeeee . . . just do it quick.”
My heart was thundering, hoping with its every beat.
Yes, yes, yes, yes,it anxiously waited.
I could have asked Lochlainn . . . Finley . . . a stranger on the dance floor. Anybody. But I had to ask him. There was no way around it. Every fiber of my being was the addict, and he was my fix. I needed to ask him. Ineededhim.
His warm hands hadn’t left my cheeks. They effortlessly caressed my skin, trailing down to settle around my neck.
Blue eyes were an ocean I wanted to drown in. The curve of his cheeks, the narrow slant of his nose, that crescent bottom lip—I needed to brand it into my memory. A job my lips would happily do.
I knew he did too as he leaned in and pulled me closer. I could feel the heat of his breath a mere inch away. I tilted my head up, his mouth a hair away, brushing delicately along mine.
I exhaled and he stole my breath, drinking it in. His eyes fluttered, near-closing, on the brink of surrendering that kiss.
Molten flames danced in my stomach, knowing our bodies were about to connect. I was going to melt or spontaneously combust. This was it . . .
His thumb gently swept over my golden choker, tracing the lace that hid my scar, right before it froze.
His chest halted. Something shifting as he went stiff.
Hands fell to his sides, fists now clenching as a muscle in his jaw feathered. Tension began to crackle between us.
Then, in one sudden sweep, he stepped back.
Wait, what?
“This is a mistake,” he said, the words bitter, tasting like regret.
His eyes were haunted and hollow, looking right through me. He turned and strode away. No pause, no look-back. Just the easy gait of tossing trash into a bin and moving on.
My soul mourned, crumbling in on itself at the rejection.
But he— We were about to?—
It stung. Everything inside me cringed, long-buried insecurities resurfacing.
What was wrong with me?
