Lyra's POV
The echo of his kiss still lingered on my lips.
Last night, Leo had reminded me: forcefully, painfully,that he doesn’t ask for what he wants. He takes it. Twisted, possessive, brilliant bastard that he is.
He had kissed me like a man with nothing to lose,and I hated how much I responded like I had nothing left to protect.
This morning, I woke up in cold sweat, tangled in expensive sheets, with his scent wrapped around my skin like silk-lined barbed wire. Not from his body: not this time,but from everything he left in his wake. That kiss. Those eyes. That damn smirk like he already owned the ending of a story I didn’t know I was in.
And now? Now I was supposed to pretend I hadn’t gone up in flames the second his hands were on me?
Sure.
Let me just hang a “Not Losing My Mi
