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The last time we had kissed, I had run out on him like he was made of fire. I didn't speak to him for two weeks up until this point. Daxton must have seen my hesitation and decided to take matters into his own hands. He stepped forward, eating away at the distance between us effortlessly. He used his free hand to cup the side of my face and draw my face closer to his. The blood rushed past my ears, drowning out the sound of the pack members in the distance. Heat rushed to the surface of my skin, coloring my cheeks a gentle pink. I would never openly admit it, but I had been thinking of his lips. That taste I had experienced in that bathroom had been too brief. I wanted more. I craved more. Daxton Vale was a dangerous one; he was a lethal but addictive drug. Just the right amount of him
- Writer
