Page 31 of Down Bad

Not another friendly face to fake nice to.

He’s playing with fire for the first time in his life, daring it to answer back.

I catch sight of a thorn caught in his hair.

I smirk, pluck it out, hold it in front of his eyes. “You always this careless with things that can hurt you?”

“I … I don’t know what you …” He chokes. Swallows. Gathers breath. “… want.”

“Yes, you do.”

I drop the thorn and go right in for his lips.

Then stop.

An inch separating our faces.

All of my anger vanishes.

Like my face just bashed into a force field.

I hold my breath. I hold every muscle in my body. I hold time itself, eyes locked to his, as I wonder what the fuck I’ve done.

I realize I can’t do it.

I can’t kiss him.

Big bad me, this whole time, didn’t have the balls to complete the move. To reach his lips. 99% of the journey, just to fail on that final percent.

Then his hand gently comes up to my face.

Caresses my cheek.

I flinch, but stay put.

“Diego,” he says—this time with certainty.

And then it’s Wyatt who comes the rest of the way, touching my lips with his own.

Then I give in a little, pressing my mouth forward. Opening it.

He opens his.

Breath and soft lips. Wyatt’s lips. Opening and closing on each other. Gently. Carefully.

My nerves are eased at once.

Like this angry, clawing, vicious thing inside me just let go.

Fell away.

Gave in completely to Wyatt and his nurturing embrace.

I feel his other hand touch my chest.

I panic, grab it, and pin it to the wall, our lips still attached.

But it doesn’t scare Wyatt away. It makes him kiss me harder.