Adaline
The kitchen.
This is the place where dozens of meals have been made. This is the place where dozens of dishes have been done. This is the place where a museum of memories have been made. This is the sacred place where we've kissed and told stories and secrets. And now, it's about to be a crime scene.
There's a knife on my hand. There's a knife on his hand. The body of my marriage is lying on the floor, bleeding. And there's nothing I can do to stop it. In fact, I swim in the blood and get wet. I like the taste of the blood.
Atticus slams his lips on mine.
His lips are sweet and soft on mine and they taste like wine. The kiss is soft and tender at first before it gets needy and rough. His tongue delves deeper into my mouth, exploring my mouth. Devouring my mouth. I want more of
