MACEY
What the hell are you doing here? That was the first thing I said when Damien finally let go of my face.
He didn’t answer. Not really. He just pressed his forehead to mine like he needed the anchor, his chest rising and falling so hard I could feel it in my own bones. His voice was low, almost broken, whispering the same word over and over again.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Sorry? God, no. If only he knew. I wasn’t sorry at all. My lips still tingled, my pulse racing like it had just discovered a new beat it preferred over the old one. That kiss wasn’t something I regretted. It was something I wanted to frame, replay, and live inside of forever.
And instead of being smart, instead of pushing him away like a version of me with actual self-control would’ve done, I lean
