The way he looked at me, the way his Adam’s apple kept bobbing every time he swallowed, it was making me think things I shouldn't.
I remembered how he was that night, how he kissed like he had mastered the way of the tongue. The way he took his time, and the size of him. God, the size.
“Do you want to know the way you felt that night, Isabella?”
The way he asked made me know he didn't care what my answer was; he was going to say it regardless.
“Why should I care?” I asked, hating how my voice came out as a whisper.
It was everything about the moment. I had to remind myself he was a bastard.
“You’re right,” he said. “Why should you care?”
When he said nothing after that, I thought he was going to leave it at that, and for the life of me, I didn't know why I was disappointed.
“Y
