Page 208 of Kiss the Villain

Who the fuck are they to decide whether he should be with a man or an alien?

Fucking assholes.

A part of me wants to scream. Another wants to kill them all, one by one, and fill the void with their blood.

Long, lean fingers thread through my hair, their touch familiar, deliberate. His amber scent fills the air, curling into my lungs, and his warmth seeps into my bones, warding off the ever-present chill in my chest.

He always feels so warm in my dreams. His touch soothing. His presence grounding. It’s as if I can almost feel his heartbeat under my fingertips, steady and alive.

For someone desperate to get over him, I surely sleep a lot, as if chasing fragments of him in the recesses of my mind. To lose myself in the echoes of his touch. To steal fleeting moments where I lay my head on his lap and watch TV, back when things felt simpler.

“He’s lost weight.”

His voice, hoarse yet deep, slices through the haze of sleep. His fingers feel more solid, more real. Careful, hesitant.

My heart jolts.

But I don’t move. I remain still, breathing evenly, holding on to the fragile figments of my dream.

“Are they even feeding him properly at home?”

The tenor of his voice rings in my ear and rushes to my starving heart.

His fingers burn against my scalp, not in a painful way, but in a way that ignites every nerve in my body. Thegoodkind of burn. The kind I’ve been fantasizing about every night when I close my eyes.

“Are you going to pick a fight with his parents if they aren’t?” Simone’s voice cuts through the moment.

And that’s how I know.

It’s not a dream.

She’s never in them.

Only him.

So he’s here. Righthere. Sitting beside me, my head resting on his thigh. My fingers twitch involuntarily, and he catches them, lifting my hand to inspect the Band-Aids covering them.

I should open my eyes and tell him to leave. To stop invading my space, my mind, my everything.

But then he brings my hand to his cold lips, pressing a kiss to each finger. My entire body shivers, and I know that if I open my eyes, I’ll fall back into bad habits.

Namely,him.

“You better not pick a fight,” Simone says, her tone sharp. “Pretty sure his dad, grandad, and brother want to kill you on sight.”

“And what did Gareth say?”

He keeps kissing my fingers, the roughness of his voice warming me along with the heat radiating from his body.

“He told them not to,” Simone replies dryly. “Said he’d do it himself.”

“I knew he loved me.”

“Loves to kill you, more like,” Simone mutters, and I want to high-five her from across the bench.

“They’re one and the same with him,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my fingertips one last time before lowering my hand to my chest.

The absence of his touch leaves my skin cold.

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