Page 110 of The Ache That Stayed

My breath caught. His hands held my face, stroking my cheek gently with his thumb.

“And I’m sorry.”

I looked at him through glassy eyes and blinked. A tear escaped me.

“You know what was worse?” My voice cracked. “I still missed you anyway.”

His thumb brushed the stray tear from my cheek, and the air locked instantly in my throat.

“And now you’re back, and everything is chaos again.”

I shoved him harder this time.

“And then you kissed me.”

His head tilted slightly, eyes sharpening. His hand moved fast, gripping my wrist mid-air, pulling me into him.

“And you kissed me back.”

The words were immediate. Certain. They felt like a sharp slap across my face, but they were true. I had.

“Let go,” I said, trying to pull free.

“No.”

I pushed again. His grip on my wrist tightened, just enough to stop me. And that’s when his other hand settled around my throat. His fingers flexed once at my thrumming pulse.

I took in a sharp breath. His thumb traced a slow circle over my pulse. My breath faltered and he felt it. Heat flooded through me, sharp and confusing. I swallowed and pushed again.

“You hit me again,” he added softly, leaning closer, “and you know what happens.”

The memory slammed into me.

You hitting me only makes me harder.

My hand—half-raised, before it dropped like it had a mind of its own. His lips curved slightly.

“Good girl.”

A shiver rolled through me.

Damn him.

Two words. Two stupid words, and suddenly my knees didn’t feel entirely reliable. Melting like butter. Falling apart—for him.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against my jaw. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He inhaled slowly along my neck and pressed a kiss below my ear. And I tilted my head without thinking.

Offering.

God. What was he doing to me?

No—what was I letting him do?

“I’m done pretending this thing between us doesn’t exist,” he said, pressing slow kisses down my neck. Almost reverent.

“Santino…” My voice came out breathless.