Page 10

I let myself fall, and everything went black.

The next thing I knew, rough hands grabbed at me, pulling me. The hands dragged me across a rough stone surface and then pressed on my chest. That was new. A hot whisper of breath passed my lips, and then a mouth covered mine.

My lungs expanded, air pushed forcefully inside.

My head spun. The drinks and lack of air sent me floating somewhere dark and cold. Only the mouth on mine was warm. Those hands were burning. I was always so cold.

The mouth disappeared, and I missed it.

I coughed, blinking my eyes open to the sight of a blurry face filling my vision. Everything was swimming.

“Breathe in, slowly, then out,” a deep voice commanded.

I attempted to talk, the words getting stuck inside.

“Do what I say,” the voice continued.

I didn’t argue. My head spun, my vision slowly clearing. I concentrated on breathing and gradually came back to myself.

Then his mouth was on mine again, even though I didn’t need it. He blew air into my lungs, and my head spun all over again. Wasn’t it dangerous to do CPR if someone was breathing okay on their own? Was that an urban legend?

I pushed weakly at his shoulders, but there was no way to actually move him. He was heavy as hell. Besides, I didn’t really want to lose his warmth. I shivered at his touch, my whole body responding to his forcefulness. I couldn’t get away. He was too strong, and I’d always been so weak.

His hands pinned me down, heavy and unmovable.

For a second I was back there—trapped, helpless, waiting for something to happen to me.

No. Not again.

If this moment belonged to anyone, it would belong to me.

So instead, so that I could breathe again, I touched my tongue to his, sliding it along and then delving into his mouth.

He froze, no longer pushing air into my mouth. I moved my lips against him, kissing him slowly with purpose. He was shocked. I could feel his resistance, and in that moment, I was no longer weak. I was in control.

Slowly, his hands rose to frame my face. Someone whistled in the periphery, another world I didn’t care about right now. The alcohol had sent my thoughts slow and sluggish. I couldn’t process everything happening all at once.

I could only feel his mouth on mine. His hands burned my cheeks as he tilted my head farther back, no longer trying to bring me back to life, but instead, devour me.

I devoured him back. It was my choice. No one could take it away from me.

His hand slid down my cheek to my neck and circled it.

The air in my chest seemed to get stuck, and I forgot how to breathe. I turned my head from his kiss, breaking it roughly, and opened my eyes to stare at the bright backyard lights.

“What the hell?” A deep, English-accented voice.

I looked up, and the guy came into focus. He was soaking wet, droplets sticking his long eyelashes together. His dark hair hung around his face, his brow creased with concern.

It took me a second to place him.

The library guy. The asshole.

His hands held me tightly, one still curled around my neck. His body was half sprawled across mine.

People watched us, whispering. I could imagine what they were saying.

I attempted to push him off me.