Page 52 of Glitter Rose
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I trusted you!” My chest heaves with ragged breaths. “Because I was alone for a year and I dragged your bleeding ass up twelve flights of stairs! Because I’m fucking falling for you!”
Shit. No.
I didn’t mean to say that last part. Didn’t mean to lay myself this bare.
“Paris…”
“No.” I shove at his chest, needing space. “You think I played you? You’re the one who didn’t tell me who you were, where you came from. You let me think—” My voice breaks. “You let me think I mattered.”
“You do matter.”
“Fuck you.” I swipe angrily at my tears. “Get out. Go back to your precious community and tell them all about the crazy Green girl talking to kitchen appliances.”
“Paris, stop.”
“No, you stop!” I’m shaking now, anger and hurt colliding like storm fronts. “I’ve spent my entire life being seen as an experiment, as a burden, as fucking invisible. And for a minute—God, I’m so stupid—for a minute I thought you saw me.”
The hard edges in his expression soften, disbelief giving way to something else entirely. “Paris.” His hands come up to frame my face, thumbs brushing away tears. “I do see you.”
I try to turn away, but he holds me steady. “Let go of me.”
“You’re not lying.” His eyes search mine. “You really don’t know.”
“Know what?” I hiccup, pathetic in my tear-soaked state.
“About Gabriel. About what he’s doing.” His forehead drops to rest against mine. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”
“Finally, something we agree on.”
“I thought—” He exhales sharply. “Your immunity, your last name. It was too much coincidence.”
“Well, I’m sorry my existence is so fucking inconvenient for you.”
His thumbs trace my cheekbones, gentle despite the tension still vibrating between us. “You really are the most inconvenient thing that’s ever happened to me. But also the best thing in this godforsaken world.”
I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. “I should hate you right now.”
“You should.” His lips brush my temple. “But I’m really fucking glad you don’t.”
And then he’s kissing me.
Not soft or sweet like before, but desperate and demanding, like he’s trying to pour every apology he can’t voice into the pressure of his lips against mine. I kiss him back just as hard, fingers digging into his shoulders, tasting salt from my own tears. His tongue demands entrance as his hands venture under my shirt. I arch into his touch, anger transmuting into need.
Fuck being careful. Fuck taking it slow.
I want this, want him, with a desperation that should terrify me. But after facing zombies and isolation and now this revelation about my brother, fear is a luxury I don’t want.
I tug at his shirt, needing skin against skin. I hate the space between us. Knox breaks the kiss long enough to yank it over his head before diving back in, his mouth thankfully insistent on mine. His chest presses against me, all hardplanes and ridges, the heat of him scorching through my thin top.
“Off,” he growls, fingers finding the hem of it. “Now.”
I raise my arms, letting him strip the fabric away again. The cool air hits my bare skin, raising goosebumps that his palms smooth away as they travel up my ribs to cup my breasts. His thumbs brush over my nipples, and I gasp into his mouth.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my lips. “Give me more of that.”
His mouth travels down my neck, teeth scraping, tongue soothing, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. And I love the burn. When he reaches my breast, he takes the nipple between his lips, sucking hard.
