Page 223 of Kiss the Villain

His question catches me by surprise, but I still say, “Grandpa and Dad got rid of it.”

“Good.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“I want to ask why you murdered someone, but I don’t want to push you.”

I tell him about Harper and David and how it felt euphoric. For some reason, I don’t feel like I’ll scare him anymore.

He’s quiet by the end, and I clear my throat. “So what I mean about this whole thing is, you should blame me, not Grandpa. He was blackmailed to stay silent because of me.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Not anymore, no. Even if he did it, I wouldn’t hurt him.”

“Why not?”

“I told you. Because he’s your grandfather and I won’t hurt someone you love.”

But you’re okay hurting yourself?

I pause at that thought, my eyes widening. I don’t want him to hurt someone I love and that’s him, because he seems tired and is not taking proper care of himself.

And I do love him.

Fuck. Ithink?

It’s love if I can’t live without him and can feel this peaceful in his arms, right?

The realization crashes into me harder than a hurricane. The reason I nearly lost my goddamn mind isn’t because I’m so obsessed with him that I can’t tolerate someone else having him. It’s because I was hurt, so deeply, thinking he never reciprocated the magnitude of the feelings I have for him.

Feelings I had for the first time in my life, and they scared me because I was giving up control to him.

His lips meet my forehead, over the Band-Aid, lingering for a few long beats. “I’m so sorry.”

I reach a trembling hand for his cheek, stroking the stubble on his jaw. “It’s not your fault I hit my head on the wall or slashed my own arm open. I’m just…weird and very intense when I’m obsessed with someone, which is why I only had two serious romantic partners in my life. You shouldn’t want me this much or tattoo me on you. If you let me in, I will consume you.”

“Too late.” He strokes my hair. “You already are.”

My heart feels like it’d burst, enlarging and engraving each of his words inside its walls.

“Who are the two serious romantic partners?” he asks with a note of apprehension.

“You and Harper. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Harper, whose father you killed to avenge.”

“Yeah. I just told you that.” I pause, my fingers twitching. “Do you feel bad for her prick father or something? Am I a monster if I kill a monster? I mean, I am, but at least I don’t stoop that low.”

I’m blabbering now because he’s not saying anything, and the silence is deafening.

It’s true that I don’t care if others see me as a monster. But will he be scared of me now?

“Did you love her?” he asks in a low voice.

“Who?”

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