Page 4 of The Kiss of Deception

Surrounded by green fields, flowers sprout in my nostrils, her raven hair velvet where my cheek rests against her head.

“Please, don’t,” I say.

My plea for secrecy is a whisper breathing against her ear.

This closeness, unbearable and not enough—our skin not one inch away and not one centimeter touching.

So close, so far.

It robs me of all rational thought. For that short heartbeat in which my breath meets hers, my mind is empty and so full of her.

But I force my hands to let go and back away, though not entirely. I can’t stop myself from lingering, fixing her hair, brushing her bangs from her eyes and the longer strands behind her back.

The touch finally jolts Zoe awake like it stings.

She blinks.

Her eyes aren’t crystalline Caribbean seas. They’re deep oceans, dark and turbulent with rage that hits me with the force of a storm and drags me back to reality.

A reality in which other people exist. Other people exist around us, all wearing wide eyes, wider mouths.

And all around us, unblinking cameras stare, reminding me that our bubble isn’t just ours.

Our bubble belongs to the entire world.

Chapter Two

Zoe

“Hey! Hands off.”

I wield my fork like a sword across the round table. “I don’t share my food.”

“Alright, Joey Tribbiani!” Liam dramatically throws his hands up in surrender. “No need to stab me over one fry.”

My phone beeps, dragging my scowl to it.

I ignore it.

It beeps again.

Two days and it hasn’t yet tired. I turn it face down on the table.

With each ping, the throb in my temples escalates. The smart move would be to switch to silent mode—preferably, turn it off—but I can’t bring myself to, on the off-chance I might miss an emergency call.

“I solemnly swear I will not steal a single fry,” Liam mocks.

Untamed dirty-blonde hair curls frame his face and amber eyes that always glint with the levity with which he faces life—and the amusement he draws from teasing me.

“You have murder in your eyes,” he explains. “Just covering all my bases, since there’s a rumor you collect your enemies’ bones under your bed.”

I do feel liable to kill someone.

Someone.

I refuse to, however, before I learn how to dispose of a body—along with which is the most painful method of murder.

“They keep my dreams interesting,” I hum.

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