Page 62 of Gravehouse

His thumb presses against my racing pulse, slowly tracing my cheekbone until my nails curl into my palms.

He leans closer. “The kind you don’t come back from.” He shoves me against the basin. “You’re a fucking liar, Venom.”

“Which lie are we talking about?” I narrow my eyes, flames flickering beneath my collar. “Because if I remember right, we already settled that bill.”

He stays where he is, his body angled toward mine.

I need to be careful with my next words.

“I never lied about everything.” My chin lifts, throat exposed and I’m fucking stupid for it. “You know who I am, Asher, but you don’t know what I do.”

Stepping forward, I hold his stare, the gap between us thinning with each inch. “Why haven’t you asked why I did it?”

My voice drops. “You came to La Journée du...”

His palm slams over my mouth before I finish, his arm rigid.

He isnotabout to silence me.

I whack him out of the way, squaring my shoulders. “You never asked why Parker? Why he was a job that took so long to complete? Or how about this? How didyouknow him?”

Nothing I say shocks him as he keeps his expression flat.

“Jesus,” I whisper, mourning the boy I once knew. The one who laughed. The one who broke through every foundation I ever had and set up there like he was the architect of my soul.

He blinks. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” I snap, annoyed at everything.

Jesus Christ he’s perfection. That mouth should be illegal. Dark lashes throw shadows over eyes like cracked ice, and those cheekbones…

His tongue swipes his lower lip. “Like you don’t enjoy how it feels to be fucking hunted for once.”

My skin prickles.

He doesn’t stop. “Like you didn’t want me to chase you all the way to that cute little safehouse in the Cayos.”

Every argument we’ve hurled at each other, every bitter word, every accusation. It all collapses into this single moment, and I hate him.

I want to destroy him.

I want to crawl inside his skin and never leave.

He tilts his head. “Come here.”

The ground drops from under me. Two words and I’m done for.

I don’t move, so he threads his fingers through mine.

Warmth floods through me, all the way down to my toes.

I should push him off, push all of this away, but guilt keeps me locked in place.

Brushing my hair back, he cups my chin and lifts my face to his. Then his mouth crashes onto mine.

His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him without thinking. He tastes like rage and want and everyfuckingthing. The kiss deepens until everything else goes quiet, until my fingers claw at his shirt just to stay upright.

He buries his hand in my hair, fisting it tight enough to make my eyes water. Wrenching my head back with a tug, he tears himself away, both of us gasping, his forehead dropping against mine.