He reached up slowly, brushing his knuckles down my cheek. The touch was featherlight, yet it sent shivers racing down my spine. His eyes softened for a moment, but the hunger in them never faded.

“You keep telling yourself you don’t want me,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin, “but your body tells me something else every single time.”

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to steady myself, trying to remember why I should hate him, why I needed to push him away. But ...