Page 5 of Toxic Kiss

She steps in anyway, avoiding the debris field.

“You sound like you’re murdering someone in here. What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” I laugh, the sound manic and bitter. “What’s not wrong with me? I’m climbing the fucking walls while Mommy and Step Daddy are sipping martinis on some Mediterranean cruise.”

Her jaw tightens.

“Anita and my dad told you to get clean. You can’t exactly expect them to babysit you while you do it.”

“Babysit?” I sneer. “Neither of them would know how to babysit a fucking dog, let alone a human.” Haven crosses her arms. “Don’t give me that look. They gave me an ultimatum, then bailed the second it got ugly. Story of my life.”

She runs her hands through her hair, and the move makes her shirt ride higher. I shouldn’t notice, but I do. My gaze lingers too long, and that’s when Haven notices me.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she orders, cheeks flushing.

“Like what?” I stalk closer. Jumping on the bed and then off to land in front of her, enjoying the way she shifts back a fraction. “Like you’re the only thing keeping me from putting my fist through this wall? Destroying my room? Destroying my life? Because maybe you are.”

Her throat works, mouth opening and closing.

“You’re spiraling, Cy. You need help.”

“Don’t fucking say that word,” I snarl, pressing closer. The air between us sizzles. “I don’t need help. I need this gnawing inside me to stop before I do something to shut it up.”

Haven’s eyes soften, and I want to erase the sympathy from her face. Or kiss it. Or both.

“You don’t get it, Haven. You can’t,” I whisper, and then say louder, “you don’t know what it’s like to feel as if the whole world is talking about you. People are saying that Patrick’s death is my fault.” I hit my chest. “Mine.” Shaking my head I let her in on all the fear. “But what if it is my fault? And what if the haters are right? What if I really am a fake, a fraud, will never be good enough?”

“Cy, both of those are blatantly wrong and Patrick would never want you to blame yourself for his death. And, yes, of course, you’re enough or LG wouldn’t have signed you,” she says far to calmly.

“Please, my mother is fucking your father. I assume he likes his dick, or my mother would cut it off for not signing me.”

Haven rolls her eyes. “That’s not how it works, and you know it. Yes, you jumped to the front of the line to be seen, but you still need talent. My father wouldn’t sign a talentless loser.”

The certainty in her tone stirs a feral-ness inside of me.

My hand shoots out and fists in the hem of her tank, yanking her closer. Haven gasps, stumbling, and suddenly we’re chest to chest, breath mingling, every nerve lit up like a fucking beacon. And I don’t care that they are bright red and warning me to stop. I can’t.

“You shouldn’t say things like that to me,” I murmur.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll believe you,” I say, my forehead touching hers. She smells like blueberries again. Sweet. Tempting. Like home in a world where everything is perfect.

Haven splays her fingers on my chest as I walk her backward and push her up against the wall.

“Cy…” The single word sounds like a plea. But does she want me to stop, or to continue? I’m not sure I even care which one.

My pulse jackhammers. I want to destroy her. I want to save her. I want her to make the ghosts shut up and the ache go away. My lips crash against hers, and a fire licks its way through my body. The burn is real, and it’s wiping out everything else. Haven moans into my mouth and doesn’t push me away as I deepen the kiss.

She tastes exactly like I remember. Sweet, deadly, perfection. The only other time I got to taste her lips she was timid and we were cut short with my mother walking in. But, she is not timid now and we won’t be interrupted this time.

Cupping her face, I take. I take all I can. When I finally come up for air, my lips are sensitive, and I love it. The pain in my chest is less, more like a shadow as I soak in the glazed look in her eyes.

Gripping Haven’s hips, I pick her up, and she squeals. She pulls in a deep breath as I attack the soft skin at the base of her neck. Her fingers rake through my hair, and I lose all control. All that matters is that I have Haven.

Turning back to the bed, we land in a heap on the sheets, her hair fanned out like fire. My body cages hers, and darkness wraps around us both.

“Cy—” she starts again, but I don’t want to hear it.