He let his fingers slide down my wrist, slow, teasing. It was barely a touch, but it felt like it branded me.
“Rhys,” I warned, but it came out breathless.
He stepped closer until my back hit the wall of the porch. His eyes dropped to my mouth.
“He touched you, didn’t he?” he whispered, voice rough. “But did he make you melt the way you are now?”
His hand trailed up my arm, brushing the side of my neck. Goosebumps bloomed. Goddess, I hated that he could read my body like this. I hated that I liked it.
“You’re full of yourself,” I snapped, though my voice cracked just a little.
“No,” he murmured, leaning closer, his breath brushing my ear. “I’m just full of you. Every goddamn time you look at me like you want to be ruined… and then act like you don’t.”
My hands curled into the front
