Luke:
She was gasoline. And I? I was a match pretending I wasn’t already on fire.
She was dangerous. Deadly, even.
Everything about Alex screamed don’t touch. Don’t want. Don’t trust.
But here I was, touching her like she was mine. Wanting her like I hadn’t eaten in weeks. Trusting that if she burned me, at least I’d die knowing how she tasted.
She was sprawled out on the motel bed, lips red and parted, hair wild like sin, and her chest rising and falling like she was still catching her breath from the kiss I’d left her with. That f*****g kiss. It was supposed to be a goodbye, a release, something to cut the cord and walk away. But it lit me up from the inside, scorched every ounce of sense I had left.
She wasn’t safe. She wasn’t clean. She wasn’t easy. She was fire and venom, a beau
