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9: Blurring the Line

With a low animalistic growl, he yanked my hips forward, smashing our bodies together. My mind scrambled for a way out of this. His lips crashed into mine, in a rough and unpleasant kiss. He pressed too hard, bruising my lips and his tongue jabbed into my mouth like it was trying to spear my tonsils as his fingers tangled in my hair and pulled my head back. How did someone who could elicit reactions from my body with so much finesse not know how to kiss?

A kiss! It had been one of his terms at breakfast, a real kiss of my own volition. It was an act of desperation, and it could backfire, but anything else would better than this unyielding torrent of tongue stabbing that could only lead to darker impulses. Surprisingly, he yielded as I gently pushed his chest back, forcing him to pull away.

He looked down at me, his eyes dark and brooding. Forcing a small smile, I curled my arms up and around his neck, letting my fingers run through his hair. “Let’s try
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