Page 167 of Kiss the Villain

And I like that he likes it.

Still, guilt nags at me. He’s sick, and I had sex with him anyway. He seems more drained than usual.

Since when do I feel guilt?

Growing soft, are we?

Shut up, demon.

“Hey, Kayde?”

“Hmm?” His eyes stay closed, his voice soft and raspy.

“What do you think about moving back to the States?”

His eyes snap open, suddenly alert. “What?”

I swallow, unsure why I’m even bringing this up. We’re not really in a relationship—not officially, as V loves to remind me.

“I mean, I was accepted into Yale, Harvard, and Princeton, so transferring is an option. I could pick Harvard, and you could teach at a nearby college. That way, we wouldn’t be in the same place.”

“Why?”

I hate it when he replies to my rambling with a single question. It forces me to talk more, which isn’t my strong suit when it comes to him. God, it was so much easier when I hated him and constantly threatened to stab him.

With a sigh, I say, “So there aren’t any stupid codes we’re breaking if we’re seen together in public.”

He wraps an arm around my back, his hand rubbing soothing circles as he squeezes my legs between his.

And now I’m distracted again because Ilovehow he showers me with affection.

“You want to come out?” His low voice demands my attention.

“I don’t know about coming out. I’ve decided I don’t like labels, so I’m not doing that. I’ve accepted I’m into you, and that’s that. But I want to take you to meet my parents and grandpa. Maybe my cousin Niko, too—he keeps teasing me about it, so why not? Maya and Mia as well. Maya’s the one who keeps recommending those soapy dramas. Oh, and my brother, but you better not fall for his bullshit, or I swear I will stab you.”

I pant, having said the last bit in one breath.

Kayden stays silent, and my chest tightens more the longer the pause stretches.

“Say something. If you don’t want to, tell me?—”

“I do want to, and I’m extremely proud of you, baby.”

The praise warms me, and I press closer to him, soaking it in.

I lift my head to look at him. “You’re really proud of me?”

“Mmm. You’ve come a long way.”

“Is it okay if I don’t believe I’m gay? I think I’m just fluid or ace. I don’t want to box myself in.”

“Then don’t. And don’t ask if it’s okay. People are different and don’t usually share the same experience, especially for something as complex as sexuality. I like you the way you are and that’s that.”

“God,” I breathe out, my voice catching. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Be so accepting? You don’t even seem hung up on your own sexuality.”

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