Elijah Vega.
I round back to Paloma just after shutting the door in Pasiphae’s face. Paloma’s lips are still smudged with her own lipstick, proof of how recklessly we’d been kissing as if we didn’t spend the entire night tangled up, mouth to mouth, skin to skin.
“Amor, why’d you put your shirt on?”
“It was Pasiphae?” she wipes at her mouth.
“Yeah, well… she’s gone now. Where were we?” I crowd her against the wall, lips parting to kiss her again until she presses her fingers against my mouth.
“Pasiphae almost caught us, and you’re talking about some kiss—”
“Paloma, please.” I drop my voice to needy. “Look at me. I’m hard already.”
“Then un-hard, Elijah.”
She moves past me and flips her hair like she’s not the reason I’m standing here half-unzipped. She’s the one who cornered me in
