daughter of a prima ballerina with enough sass to teach seasoned divas new tricks, and my father is a lawyer who lets me read his law journals and does mock court trials with me. I don’t take shit from anyone and I sure as hell won’t be belittled like this.
“Listen here, asshole,” I start, my voice low and deadly. “I don’t know who you are but clearly you’re quite insecure about your identity. Is that because you have daddy issues or is it because you’re alone in here, caring about your brother that’s making you an ornery ass with self-entitlement written all over you?”
I hold his stare, not backing away. I know it’s a bitch move to bring up his family but he did say I’m a little bitch before so this shouldn’t surprise him. And who the hell does he think he is?
“Careful with your next words, they might hurt you in the long run,” he warns, his voice low, gaze hooded and narrowed now.
I snort, shaking my head as I get up and start packing up the first-aid kit. He stands up as well, watching me like he wants to devour me.
“I’m sorry about what you must be going through, I really am, but that doesn’t give you the right to assume that I have any ill intentions about you or your family. Hell, I don’t even know who you are and…”
Before I can finish that, he snakes a hand in my hair and fists it, pulling me to him and then…he’s kissing me.
I freeze.
I don’t dare breathe as my virgin lips are taken by a rough, angry bad boy in a hospital hallway.
The kiss is awkward at first, our lips locking with a fiery hesitation, his hot breath making my lips tingle.
Of all the fantasies and dreams I’ve had about my first kiss, this isn’t anywhere near one of those romantic, candle flickering in the background, kisses I imagined. This is, in so many ways, much better and so damn scary, as the need to feel something other than the icy chill within, blooms in my chest with an intensity that should embarrass me.
I want to feel him, to taste him. Maybe this kiss will heal something seriously broken inside of me. Maybe this is the kiss that will repair my lack of sympathy for other people or it will tame the monster inside that my mother always warns me about.
Coaxing my lips with a gentleness that disarms me, his tongue probes, licks, and caresses until I have no choice but to open my mouth to a burst of sensation I’ve never felt before. My eyes flutter closed. I feel light and a bit euphoric. It’s happening!
The moment our tongues join, I feel like I’ve just been zapped by electricity. It travels through my body until all I can do is lean in closer, melting into his hard chest.
And the next thing I know, he pulls away, his eyes dilated a bit. Breathless, my eyes fly open. I can hear the almost violent whooshing of blood rushing through my veins. My heart is pounding so hard, my ears are ringing.
It’s like he just tattooed half his soul to all of mine through that kiss. Like he just gave me half of himself, like I don’t deserve the rest.
Is this what kisses do?
Do they fry one’s brain to a crisp like mine is right now? Then why do I feel like doing it again?
But as I stare up at him, the euphoria I was beginning to feel starts to die down as I notice the impassive look on his face. His jaw locks, and he looks like he felt…nothing.
Like the kiss we just had, was nothing to him. I suck in a deep breath, my lips still tingling.
His eyes are dead, watching me back like he’s regretting placing his lips over mine.
Fear grips me by the throat, the ringing in my ears growing louder.
I know what he’s thinking of me. That I’m cold and dead inside. I’ve heard it so often in middle school, but I wasn’t expecting it to be transferred through a kiss with a stranger.
“You kissed me,” I whisper then groan. Way to go pointing out the obvious, dumb head. I risk looking up at him and regret it immediately. I can see the battle in his eyes so clearly, it punctures my heart.
He regrets kissing me.
Common sense seems to slam into both of us, it’s then that I realize what that was.
“You kissed me,”