To be honest, that single sip of alcohol hadn't made me feel sick—it had just made me sad.
My mind flashed back to the night the power went out.
In that split second where I reached out and he pulled away, his dark eyes locked onto mine as his hand cupped the back of my neck with dead accuracy.
He pulled me tight against his chest, forcing my head up.
His lips brushed against my forehead.
"Not here," he rasped, his hot breath intoxicating as he coaxed me. "Here."
Once he found his mark, his voice turned dangerously addictive.
Neither of us had been drinking that night, yet we did something so reckless it could only be blamed on booze.
But with years of unspoken understanding between us, we both chose to sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened.
I walked toward the kitc
