Darian’s eyes are on my cheek, and I catch the flicker of unhappiness in them. “Still, you shouldn’t let her kiss you. I don’t like it.”
I raise my brows. “Did it hurt your feelings? Let me get you a tissue.”
“You haven’t lost your mean streak,” he mutters. “And I must be a masochist because I still find it hot.”
I try to ignore how my lower muscles tense up as he says that. It’s not easy since I’m also trying not to react to the way his calloused thumb is rubbing against my cheek. It’s as if he’s trying to rub away Katherine’s very essence.
“Stop touching me,” I finally say.
“You didn’t complain when she touched you,” he growls.
“You’re not Katherine.”
Darian looks me deep in the eyes. “No, but I am your fated mate.”
This time, it’s my turn to bristle. I bat his hand away. “Stop b
