ISLA'S POV.

His smirk was infuriatingly smug, his eyes gleaming with triumph, and his words. God, his words wrapped around me like a noose.

"That’s what I thought," he said, his voice low and taunting, each word slicing through my fragile defences. "Maybe you were too drunk to feel how great it was. Now, I’ll help you."

Before I could even process his meaning, before I could take a step back or throw out some sharp rebuttal, his hands cupped my face again, and his lips crashed into ...