Page 48 of Forbidden Lyrics

I screwed up––big time.

My chest rises and falls in an unsteady rhythm as I try to catch my breath without committing his mouth-watering scent to memory.

How can he smell so good?

“Answer the question,” he pushes.

“You said I’m a bad liar––”

“Then I suggest you tell me the truth.”

His hazel eyes are more green than brown, swirling with restraint as he towers over me, demanding my response without even needing to utter a single word.

I’ve never seen him like this. Like a coiled snake ready to strike at any second. And I know I’m in dangerous territory. This is the man my sister was talking about. This is the man she warned me to stay away from. This is the man that a stranger warned me to stay away from, hinting that he was involved with Emma’s disappearance. And even though Madelyn has debunked that particular theory, right now, it holds more weight than ever.

But if that was the case, why am I not terrified?

“Answer me, Dove.”

“Y-yes.” I gulp. “Yes, I know who he is.”

Gibson’s fists clench at his sides before he grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. “I don’t get angry often, Dove. But I need you to understand that my father is a trigger for me.”

I nod.

Duh.

“And I need you to understand that I’ve spent my entire life keeping this secret from everyone but Fen. And I mean everyone, but Fen,” he emphasizes. “Do you understand?”

Again, I nod.

“Can you promise to keep this secret?”

Dipping my chin in his firm grasp is difficult, but I manage to pull it off a third time.

“I need to hear you say it,” he growls.

“Y-yes. Yes, I’ll keep it a secret.”

His eyes drop to my mouth before his calloused thumb scratches my chin softly as he rubs it back and forth, committing my promise to memory.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

The swirling green in his eyes is still present, but he doesn’t let me go. Heck, they’re practically glowing as he looks down at me with a fire that makes my chest feel too tight. Like I can’t breathe. The intensity is almost uncomfortable, but I don’t want it to end, either. If anything, I want to rise onto my tiptoes and put myself out of my misery.

My tongue darts between my lips before I whisper, “You’re welcome.”

His eyes flash, and his gaze drops down to my mouth. “You should stop looking at me like that, Dove.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you.”

“Oh,” I breathe out, my curiosity battling my disappointment. Because he hasn’t backed away from me. His fingers are still cupping my chin. His breath is still tickling my cheeks. His lips are still… They’re still right there.

“What if I… What if I do want you to kiss me?” I question him, finding courage even though I’m positive this will blow up in my face, but I can’t take it anymore. The push. The pull. The hot. The cold. It’s exhausting. And I’m tired of fighting it.

“Why’d you stay tonight?” he asks.

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