Page 19 of Bryce

“Are you pretending I forced you back in St. Lucia?”

“No!” Even she appeared surprised by the force in her voice, her eyes widening for the briefest moment. “Of course not. Don’t pretend to be a fool now. I know you aren’t. You know precisely why I’m behaving as I am, but you refuse to admit it. Though I must say, it’s surprising.”

“What is?”

“The fact that you’ve even acknowledged what took place there. I thought you were trying to forget it.”

“What makes you think that?”

Her arms dropped to her sides before she turned to me. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. I never once said I was trying to forget it. I don’t want to forget it.”

She gaped at me, then, her laughter rang out. Humorless laughter with a sharp edge. “You don’t want to? Is that why you forgot I existed? That’s your way of remembering something?”

“Remembering is one thing. Actively trying to forget is another.”

“I see.” The smile she wore said otherwise. “It must be convenient for you, the way you can so easily rationalize your behavior.”

“I fail to understand what I’ve done to deserve this. We were two adults, well past the age of consent. I enjoyed our time together. I believed you did as well.”

“So much so that you forgot about me without so much as a word in farewell.” Her voice cracked at the end, telling me there was much more beneath the surface of her anger. “You tossed me aside like a piece of used-up nothing, a way to pass the time between missions.”

“I never stopped caring for you.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” she spat in reply, standing firm when I took a step closer.

“It’s true. I’ve never once stopped. Why else would I have run the risk of getting soaked and suffering your tart tongue if it wasn’t out of concern for you? Not in the hopes of stealing a private moment. I cared whether you were safe here.”

“Well, thank you very much,” she cooed, all sarcasm. “You risked wet clothing and a bruised ego for my sake. What a hero.”

I should’ve been furious.

I should’ve unleashed a storm of foul words that would make the worst thing she’d ever called me seem like a nursery rhyme in comparison.

I should’ve left her alone.

Instead, never one to take the easy route, I grabbed her about the waist and kissed her before either of us knew what was happening.

My lion roared in approval.He was loud enough to block out everything but the rain and the frantic beating of my heart.

She froze for a moment. Even her lips went completely still.

Then, she threw herself against me, hands tangling my hair, crushing her mouth against mine. This was different from even our most exciting moments. There was a rawness, a primal hunger. Her dragon was just there, beneath the surface of everything, and its force excited my lion until we were both nearly consumed.

Until she froze again. And did as I’d expected her to at first. She pushed me away, running her forearm over her moist, swollen lips as if the very taste of me disgusted her.

Then, she raised her hand and struck me across the face, the slap ringing out when she connected.

I reeled back in surprise. There was no pain. I hardly felt a thing. What hit me harder than her palm was the way she’d changed so suddenly. One moment she’d been all but pulling me to the ground with her and the next I had what might turn into a welt on my cheek.

“What was that for?” I asked, stunned.

Her chest heaved, and bright red spots colored her cheeks. Her hand was still slightly raised as though she considered striking again. “You do not. Have the right. To kiss me. Or touch me. Ever again.”

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