Fiona
His words hit me like a physical blow. The air rushed out of my lungs as if he'd punched me in the stomach. He knows. He can see right through me.
"No." The word came out broken, desperate. I shoved against his chest with both hands, but he didn't budge. "No, you don't get to—"
"Get to what?" His voice was dangerously quiet. "Tell the truth?"
The truth is I've hated you for ten years. The truth is I'm wet right now and I want to die for it. My hands were shaking against his chest, and I could feel my pulse hammering in my throat like a trapped bird.
"You're sick," I whispered, but even I could hear how breathless I sounded.
"Maybe." His thumb traced along my jawline, and I shuddered involuntarily. "But you're here. You're pressed against me. Your pupils are dilated."
Stop. Ple
