Page 35 of Die for You
Electricity crackles between us in the beats of silence that follow. He’s so damn gorgeous. Crystal-blue irises, dark hair that falls over his forehead and down to his ears, sharp cheekbones and jaw, prominent Adam’s apple, and lips that are just a little too big for his narrow face. His only imperfection. Except they’re not an imperfection at all. I’m failing to find a single one.
Before I can think better of it, I launch myself at him, our lips colliding. And his are so fucking soft. Just as perfect as I imagined?—
I jump back, lips tingling as the horror sweeps over me. “Shit, I shouldn’t have?—”
Finn doesn’t let me finish. He grabs my face with both hands and tugs me back to him, lips meeting mine in another collision.
Our lips fit perfectly together as his explore mine, sucking at my bottom lip before biting gently. I gasp and my hands slide up to his face too, his skin shockingly soft and smooth, as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.
He parts my lips, and when our tongues meet, a whimper escapes from deep in my chest. An unexpected groan passes from his mouth to mine, and it’s enough to melt me completely.
Please moan like that again, oh mygod?—
“Finn—” I gasp.
But he doesn’t let me catch my breath, tugging me in and devouring me again. He tastes like sweet, rich coffee, and his lips are pillowy soft. I want to feel them on every inch of me. Before he uses that tongue?—
I yank back, breathless. “Thank you,” I blurt. “For the ride.”
Before he can protest, I scramble out of the car, slam the door behind me, and race up the steps to my apartment, head spinning.
If I don’t get the hell away from him now, I’m going to let him take me back to the Devils’ house. And let them do whatever they want to me.
Nota smart idea. No matter how incredible it sounds.
Now I’ve kissedtwoof the Devils. When I swore to myself I needed to stay away from them. I just got out of a relationship. A really,reallyshitty one. I need to be single for a while. I need time to figure myself out, to be happy on my own, to stand on my own two feet.
That would be the smart thing to do. That’s what a girl with a good head on her shoulders would do. That’s what I know Ishoulddo.
Yet every day, it’s feeling more and more impossible to stay away from them. To want to.
Chapter 12
Aurora
In the music building,I try to nail Beethoven’s “Für Elise” for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.
My mother was a classical pianist who claimed I was born with piano fingers, so this instrument should come more naturally to me than it has. According to a band teacher at my last high school, the keyboard is the most versatile instrument and every serious musician should master it.
Yet my eyes keep glazing over as I stare at the sheet music, fingers stumbling and forcing me to start over.
Jeremiah’s words echo in my head.Just quit. Go do something you’re actually good at. Do something that will actually make you money. What the hell are you going to do with a music major?
Unfortunately, my orchestra conductor is also a complete hard-ass with deeply ingrained crow’s feet that betray how many years she’s been shouting at the students who can’t live up to her impossible standards.
Not exactly a recipe for getting me over my stage fright.
“Perhaps you should stick with the violin, Miss Archer.” Professor Abernathy’s hands are planted on her hips, bony elbows jutting out like a baby bird. Every two seconds, she’sadjusting her gray-streaked ponytail or pushing up her wire-framed glasses or huffing out of her nose like an irritated bull. All of it enough to distract me.
I clench my jaw, but miraculously manage to bite back all the cuss words I want to shout at her.
“Again,” Professor Abernathy barks.
I roll my shoulders before trying again, fingers gliding over the smooth keys cool to the touch. This time, the off-key notes come faster, the discordant clatter making my ears ring.
Before Professor Abernathy can chastise me again, I slam my hands on the keys, jaw clenched and palms aching. My back and ass are sore from sitting on this bench for hours, and the worst part is I nailed this fucking song before she waltzed into the room.
It’s her. It’sanyonewatching me. Once I’m under the spotlight, my limbs stiffen, my fingers lock up, and my mind scrambles. The notes on the sheet music blur together, I lose my place, I forget the next notes, and everything’s fucked.
