Page 64 of Heart of Thorns

I slip and land on my knee. My teeth sink into my lower lip as I take in the pain radiating down my leg. I see the door, except it looks like it’s moving. I try to focus, and when I do, a tall shadowstands in front of me. Panic ensues, and I’m suddenly back in that burning building. “Get away from me!”

“Shit, Briar. It’s me.”

Large, warm hands fall to my hips. Why do they feelsofucking good? I’m tingly all over.

“I know what you did!” My voice is raspy. I want to pull away but I also like the way his fingers feel digging into my waist, which is so fucked up.

Am I dreaming?

“What?”

My cheeks are trapped with his firm grip. The light from the window shines a streak onto his face, and I’m mortified.

“Oh my God.” My gaze bounces back and forth between his worried eyes.

“Are you back?” he asks, flexing his jaw.

I nod once, and he visibly relaxes.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “I got…” I try to think back to last night. The memories flash in and out. I remember the gasoline note and going to the party.

Then the football players showed up, and I spiraled with fear.

I took something tocalmme. In hindsight, that was a terrible idea.

It did calm me. It calmed me enough to get closer to the football team so I could see if any of them smelled like gasoline, but it also made me antsy, too.

The more I think about the night, the blurrier it becomes.

I remember Thorne showing up, and how happy I was. Howtrusting.

“Trying to recall what happened?” He drops his hands from my cheeks and slowly skims them over my body until they’re resting on my hips again.

My stomach dips with heat.

I nod, and he slowly pushes me backward onto the bed.

He forces me to sit, and the thoughts going on in my head are dangerous at best. I’m not acting like myself. My legs beg to open, and my pulse races. There’s a plea on the tip of my tongue for him to touch me.

I’m turned on, and I have no idea why.

Thorne drops to his knees in front of me, and I pant. My hairline prickles with heat, and I breathe faster.

His touch is intoxicating. The palm of his hand moves against my thigh until it lands at my knee.

“You took X last night,” he admits, rubbing the spot that hurts the most from falling onto his floor.

“I… what?”

No fucking wonder.

Thorne peers at me from below, and I feelseen.

“Did we…?”

I’m not wearing pants. My scars are right there for him to see.

His hand tenses on my thigh. “No.”

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