Page 88 of Bitter Rival

Her body is flush with mine, her soft breath fanning my neck, and she says, her voice sweet and low, “It’s so beautiful.”

With a soft sigh, she leans her head against my chest, one hand in mine, the other cupping the nape of my neck as I lead us around a makeshift dance floor in Petaluma while a man and woman sing a love song about death and mortality and how nothing can last forever.

I’m not surprised that Daisy would find a sad song beautiful. But she probably views it differently than I do. Daisy can find hope in things that others wouldn’t. Sometimes to her own detriment.

I keep thinking about the story she told me about Finn. He stole a car. She bailed him out. He cheated on her. She took him back. Again. And again.

Why would she ever take him back or give him the time of day?

That douche never deserved her.

The song ends. Another slow song plays. We keep dancing.

And when that song ends, she pulls back and tips her face up to mine.

My gaze dips to her mouth as her lips part like an invitation and I don’t even stop to think.

My lips crash against hers.

I cup the back of her head and draw her to me. Her soft curves yield to my hard angles and our tongues dance.

It’s different from the last kiss. Sweeter, more gentle, and therefore, more dangerous.

She tastes like lemonade and sunshine and a treasure trove of happy memories.

She’s like summertime and a long-forgotten dream.

As tempting as forbidden fruit.

Daisy is everything I shouldn’t want but reality ceases to exist, and I’m only focused on her. Her soft lips. Her warm mouth. Her silky hair. Her little moans as my tongue strokes hers with intent.

If this were the Garden of Eden and she offered me a poison apple, I’d say fuck the consequences, and take a bite.

She fists my T-shirt, like she’s scared I’ll run away if she doesn’t hold on tight. I’m not going anywhere.

I want to take her home and fuck her senseless. Throw her down in the field and dry-hump her like a teenager. Proof that I’ve lost my goddamn mind.

My hands are in her hair, my thumbs pressing into her cheekbones as I deepen the kiss, and if you could get drunk on someone’s kisses, I’d be well past the legal driving limit.

Unwanted temptation or not, I need to screw her out of my system. That’s all there is to it.

“Get a room, man.” The voice and peals of laughter pierce through the hazy veil of lust, and Daisy rips her mouth away and shoves my chest. I stumble back, caught by surprise but regain my balance quickly.

Breathless, she stabs her finger at me. “No.” She’s panting, chest heaving, eyes blazing, and I don’t know if it’s from the kiss or anger but either way it only makes me want her more.

But since I don’t want to be accused of being a predator, I take a step back. “You kissed me back,” I remind her.

Her eyes narrow. “I mean, no, you don’t get to do this to me again. You don’t get to run hot and cold and take what you want only to turn around and call me a mistake.”

She spins on her heel and strides away, leaving me with her bag and the unwanted attention of some curious bystanders.

“Dude,” one of the teen vapers says. “She smoked you.”

“You called her a mistake?” a girl chimes in. “That’s really low.”

“Pretty harsh, man.”

Jesus. I’m devolving. Now I’ve got a group of teens commentating.

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