Page 102 of Poison Aches

Hell, I even forged my MCAT scores, that’s how much of a desperate joke I am.

Not only that, but I’m headed to New York for something else other than med school.

If Grammy finds out what I’m up to and that I’m going to meet my father…

Bubbles of familiar panic start to rise in my chest, so I bring the bottle of wine to my lips, but just as quickly, the bottle is snatched away from me.

I look up, only to bump into the torturer of my fantasies.

He’s huge, towering above me, dwarfing me until I feel so tiny in front of him.

With a few dark locks of his hair falling over his brow in a daredevil way.

His jawline is set, as if he could crush marble with it, and those lips—those lips that can utter the rudest words with a gentle tone—they’re closed, giving him his usual silently brooding features that make girls, and some boys, go crazy over him.

Tonight, he’s edgy.

I can tell he’s pissed about something, and I should definitely get out of his way, but I just stand there, looking up at him, staring into the emerald pools of his eyes.

He peruses my appearance then his eyes swing to the scar at my temple.

A powerful shudder goes down my spine.

“May I have that back?” I gesture toward the wine bottle.

“You don’t drink wine,” he says simply.

“You don’t know everything about me,” I murmur, annoyed with my predictable habits.

He just stares at me.

“It’s a newly acquired taste, okay.”

Emmett tilts his head slightly to the left, watching me closer than he ever has… and then he gives me that oh-so familiar look.

The searching gaze.

The one he gives me when he’s penetrating deep into my soul, my skin, my heart, and everything I am… as if he wants those memories.

FUCK.

“Emmett, I really need that back please,” I say hurriedly but he just stands in front of me. The wind is now blowing but I don’t feel it because he’s literally blocking it from touching me with his huge body.

“A newly acquired taste, huh?”

I quickly nod.

“Have you acquired anything else as of late?”

An intense shudder moves through my body as I struggle to hold his gaze steadily.

Does he suspect that I remember? Does he know? Oh fuck…

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say in a low but firm voice.

I want to smile, to brush it off, but I know I can’t manage that right now.

“So you don’t have anything to tell me?”

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