Frustration slices through my spine, and I snarl. “Then why the fuck did you sneak into my room to rape me?”
“I fucking wasn’t!”
“Someone’s throwing a tantrum. Do you need some crayons to help you express your feelings?” I mock in the same tone I’d use to talk to a child.
I involuntarily flinch because his hold is getting a little too painful for my liking. Either he realizes the same, or I’m doing a terrible job concealing my expressions, but he eases off in the next heartbeat.
Kohen’s eyes harden. “You’re such a bitch.”
“Hmm, I wonder why I might be acting like this. Oh, maybe it’s becauseyou broke into my room and burned my fucking house down!”
“It was your fault!” He gets right in my face when he yells it.
“Victim blaming, asshole? Really? Uncool.”
“Shut up.”
“No. I’m sick of you acting—”
“Stop talking.”
Howdarehe? “Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking. You think you know me so well? Fine. It doesn’t take a genius to know you started lighting fires the day you were born because it was the only way you’d be seen in your brother’s shadow. Your impulsiveness wasn’t something hardwired into your brain. You kept feeding it so you could see how long you could get away with it until your parents started giving a damn about you the same way they did Kiervan. The bigger the fire, the more the attention, right?Wrong. Nothing worked, so now you’re an angry, bitter, spoiled—”
I don’t get to finish because he gets me to do exactly what he wants: I shut up. I don’t make a single sound when he kisses me—whether in shock, disgust, confusion, or a wave of lust, I stay completely still.
Until I don’t.
It doesn’t matter how much I yell at myself to stop, to pull back and spit in his face; my lips keep moving with his.
My suspicions were correct. Kohen tastes like mint and patchouli.
His lips are the softest things I’ve ever felt, giving me a headier feeling than any drug I’ve ever taken. I had no expectations about kissing Kohen, but I always imagined it would be exactly like this: searing hatred that makes the air so thick with tension, feeling as if he’s lit a match between us and we’re being enveloped in smoke.
Nothing about this is loving. It’s packed to the brim with poison and cinders that make my veins boil with need. This is the first time I’ve been kissed sober, and I’ve never felt more intoxicated.
I’m unsure what happens next, because this high has seeped into my marrow. One second, he’s gripping my hair to deepen the kiss; the next, his tongue pokes out to battle mine. Suddenly, he moves away from me and cold rushes through my body as he ends up on the other side of the bedroom.
Kohen shakes his head and runs his hand down his face, pacing the short space between the width of the room, pissed off beyond comprehension.
It doesn’t matter how hard I try to understand it; I can’t figure out whyhe’sthe one who’s angry.Hesnuck intomyroom.Hemountedmelike a caveman, then shovedhistongue downmythroat. None of this is my fault.
My lips feel bruised, like I’ve just gone ten rounds in the ring. One thing’s for certain: if I thought the ache in my muscles was terrible before, it’s nothing compared to the throbbing that’s started between my legs. If he hadn’t been straddling me, I would have died from embarrassment over what my body would have done against my wishes.
He runs a hand over his head, paces back and forth twice, then hits the wall. The sound stirs me to my feet, and I somehowfind the decency to drape the sheets over my shoulders.
I lick my lips, tasting the remnants of him as I swallow the lump in my throat. “Alright, settle down, Kyle.” My voice lacks its usual lethal touch.
The pyromaniac whips toward me. “What the fuck did you just call me?” The rage that carries with his voice rumbles down my spine and has me swaying backward.
What the fuck is his problem? I’ve never seen him so distressed before.
His gaze drops from my eyes to my chest—where I’m certain my nipples have come to say hello, and have only become more enthusiastic in their greeting now that they’re getting attention. I’m only wearing a tacky, shoestring tanktop, and the air is already kissing the top half of my tits. I can only imagine just how much cleavage he’s getting.
My stupid, traitorous eyes do the same thing he did. They fall from his face to the heavy rise and fall of his chest, down to his jeans. I suck in a sharp breath and try to get the image out of my head, but there’s no unseeing the tent in his pants. Holy Mother Mary, there must be a monster living under there.
My tongue slips out to wet my bottom lip, and his inhale is so audible I squeeze my legs together in a useless attempt to alleviate the tension.
I bite the inside of my cheek, and I hate that his eyes drop to my lips. I have to stop this.Now.
