Page 87 of Forbidden Lyrics

His dark gaze bounces around my face, taking in every minor detail before coming to some kind of conclusion, though I have no idea what it is.

“Listen,” he starts. “About Em––”

“I don’t want to know.”

“It’s not what you think, Dove.”

With my eyes squeezed shut, I grab his wrist that’s holding my chin hostage, but he doesn’t budge.

“Seriously. I don’t want to know, Gibbs. Not even after your brother’s warning in the bar all those weeks ago. Not after him bringing up Em again at the party. I’m just…done.”

“What do you mean, at the bar?” he growls.

“He came in looking for Fen a few weeks ago.”

“Who? Marty?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “He warned me to stay away from you. That Em disappeared after you broke up with her. After you and Milo broke up with her,” I clarify, my voice cracking. “How could I have been so stupid to think that me, an innocent little virgin, could hold your interest? Of course, you were still hooking up with Em. But at least she’s not dead, right? That’s what your brother made it sound like, so there’s that.”

“Look at me, Dove.”

“I can’t right now,” I choke out.

“Please?” His voice is raw. Gritty. Like he’s gargled broken glass. Like he feels as tortured as I do.

My lower lip quivers, and I shake my head, keeping my eyes tightly closed.

This is insane. I shouldn’t care. I know I shouldn’t. But I can’t help it. My heart gallops in my tight chest.

His lips brush against mine. The movement is soft. Gentle. Heck, it’s not even a touch. It’s like a breath. A tease. A caress that I can feel deep in my soul. And it hurts. It hurts so much. I know I should pull away. That I should tell him to leave me alone. But I can’t. I’m too desperate to steal another sample of the man in front of me to see if he tastes as good as I remember. So good that I forget to pull away.

No.

Instead, I simply stand there and savor the moment. Like an addict. A very desperate addict.

My annoyance with Fender dissipates almost instantly as the realization hits me. If this is what he feels every time he takes a hit, I get it. I get the pull. The rush. The need.

I’m not strong enough to push Gibson away. The fact that I haven’t grabbed his face and forced my tongue into his mouth is a freaking miracle.

Until I see Em’s name flash through my mind.

A whimper escapes me.

Sensing my hesitancy, the brush of his lips disappears, but he doesn’t pull away. Not fully.

With his forehead resting against mine, Gibson murmurs, “I’m sorry, Dovey. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” I whisper, though I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince.

“Yeah, I do. I just…I don’t know what to tell you.”

I laugh. But it’s pained and forced.

Of course, he doesn’t know what to tell me.

What do you tell a girl who has some major feelings for you that you’re still in contact with your ex while refusing to tell her why?

His nostrils flare as he searches for the right words. And because I’m a fool, I wait for him to find them.

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