Page 88 of Corpse Roads

Grasping my cheeks so tight, it’s almost painful, his mouth crashes onto mine. I don’t know how to react. Our lips are locked in a bruising collision, and Leighton’s determined to win this war.

He’s kissing me.

Over and over again.

Pausing, he pulls back and searches my face. Whatever he finds is enough for his lips to return to mine—softer, more hesitant, moving in a tender rhythm that would rival a well-orchestrated symphony.

My lips part, seeking something I can’t fathom. His tongue slides into my mouth without hesitating, deepening the kiss until it feels like he’s drinking the oxygen that’s dared to enter my lungs.

I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but lie there, filled with delicious heat, letting Leighton chase away the darkness that’s infected my mind. He’s leaving no room for the bad thoughts.

Our tongues touch, dancing together like twin flames battling to consume the other’s light. Fire is racing over my skin, setting my nerves alight, plunging me into a storm of sensation.

I have no idea what I’m doing. His hands are running over me, stroking down my body to cup my hips. Heat gathers between my thighs, stoked by the pressure of something hard pushing against me.

Breaking apart with a pained gasp, Leighton’s forehead meets mine. “Jesus, Harlow. What the hell did we just do?”

“Leigh—”

“Don’t say anything. This is my fault.”

He stares down at me with such regret, I feel like I’ve been stamped on. My eyes shutter, recoiling from the sting of rejection.

“No!” He panics, grabbing my chin to pull my eyes back up to his. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks.”

“You… have?”

Noses brushing, his lips whisper over mine again. “Yeah. That’s why I’m apologising. You don’t need me fucking things up for you.”

Gasping for each pained breath, I feel the tingle of my extremities. I’m back. My brain is determined to drown me, kicking and screaming, but he’s brought me back to life.

“Please, Leigh.” My voice is a raw rasp. “Kiss me again.”

“What?”

I do the only thing I can to remain in control. My lips seek his out, harder and faster. I want to taste him again, feel our souls brush against each other in a passionate waltz.

I’ve never felt anything like the electrical current running beneath my skin right now. It’s powerful, obliterating any doubt or fear in my mind. I don’t want distance between us.

I need Leighton to hold me in this world, before I lose myself permanently. He’s the only thing that’s broken through the icy lake of my isolation. I can’t do it alone. The voices are still there.

My cream sweater rides up as his hips press into me, rocking slightly. Each brush feels like a lightning bolt. I’m not naive; my harrowing past taught me the basics.

I know that he wants me, his body tells me enough. The thought of it sends fingertips of anxiety across my scalp, intermingling with the screams of countless bad memories.

But this isn’t Pastor Michaels.

It’s just… Leighton.

Sweet, loving Leighton. He would never hurt me… would he? There are shadows within him, carefully concealed behind a playful smirk. I’ve seen them. I want to trust him, but life has taught me to be wiser.

The whispers of doubt are eviscerated when his hand sneaks beneath my sweater, stroking over the slope of my exposed skin. His touch is magnetic, stealing my whole attention.

Teeth nipping my bottom lip, his hand travels higher, grazing over the lighter wrapping that I’ve recently swapped in to help my healing ribs. When his thumb caresses the underside of my breast, I can’t help but whimper.

He’s going to touch me there. I can feel my nipples stiffening into hard peaks. His index finger travels lower, down the slope of my stomach, and halts as it reaches a solid ridge.

My scars.

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