Page 105 of Nemesis

“Most people ask for favors for themselves,” I tease. “And you go and ask for an old friend? You had it all written up just in case?”

He shakes his head and approaches me. I force myself to hold still. The instinct is still to step away, to avoid his space. But he doesn’t have any trouble stepping right into mine.

“One of the other fighters mentioned it when we were waiting.” He raises his hand like he wants to touch my face, but he drops it just as fast.

No.

God, I’m so starved for touch, I wanthimto touch me. The ache is right there, thrumming under my skin.

I grab his wrist before he can withdraw further, and I put his hand on the side of my neck. My heart is going to burst out of my chest, but I can’t stop it. I just—I want contact.

Not the hateful kind, like what Saint offers. If I wanted something quick and dirty and mentally destructive, I know exactly who to go to. But right now, I just want to burn hot… without the degradation.

His gaze intensifies, and his tongue sweeps out, wetting his lower lip.

I damn near groan.

“Do you want me to kiss you, Artemis?”

I like how he says my name. I shouldn’t, but I do.

I also like that he asks. It means he’s not the same. It means he’s changed for the better, and my heart skips.

Slowly, I nod.

His thumb sweeps across my jaw, and he slides his fingers into my hair. The touch sends tingles down the back of my neck and raises goosebumps along my arms. I find myself leaning in, rising on my toes.

When his lips brush mine, my eyes flutter closed.

I don’t think I’ve ever really been kissed.

Isn’t that sad?

My mind flips back, trying to pinpoint akiss, but none come up. None in Terror—I did everything I could to avoid it, and the guys didn’t really care if I twisted away from their mouth. As long asmymouth did other things… And then after, when I learned how to get over this sexual trauma, it was never about the kiss.

But now he’s kissing me, his lips moving softly against mine, and my brain is finally quiet.

He breaks away and looks down at me, gauging my dazed expression. and then kisses me again. Harder. The pressure builds up, our lips dance together in a way I instinctively know. His tongue drags across the seam of my mouth, and I open.

His tongue is another level. I hold on to his forearms, trying to ground myself. Otherwise this sensation flooding through me might make me float away.

“What the fuck?”

Saint may as well have dumped ice water over our heads. I leap back, hitting my hip on the counter. My hair falls through Reese’s fingers, although his hand remains outstretched. My grip on his forearms loosens until my arms drop.

We wereright there. Our bodies a hair’s breadth away. It was just our lips and hands, and the moment is seared into my brain. No matter what Saint says next.

I touch my lips.

He storms up and shoves Reese. I barely register that Saint has given me his back, that he’s put himself between us. I don’t know why he’s doing that.

“Stop.” My voice is weak. “Saint, stop.”

He just keeps shoving, until Reese is back against the windows and Saint has him pinned by the throat.

“Please stop.” The counter ends up saving me from hitting the floor. I touch my lips again, half in shock and… I want more. “He asked.”Louder.“He asked if I wanted it, Saint. I?—”

“You were afraid of him,” Saint accuses. “And now you kiss him?”

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