The first thing I heard that morning was Bloom scratching at my door. The second was the silence on the other side of the wall.
Liam’s silence.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my chest tight. Every nerve in my body still remembered the feel of his mouth on mine, the way he’d kissed me like he hated me, like he needed me, like he couldn’t decide which urge would win.
And then the way I’d stopped it.
The way I’d lied about being tired because admitting the truth that I wanted him but was too afraid of what it meant was too dangerous.
Bloom whined softly, her paws scratching again. It was almost comical, the way she stationed herself between our rooms, like she wanted to push us together.
I rolled out of bed with a groan made my way toward the kitchen.
He was already there.
Black
