Page 154 of Heartless Stepbrother
When my lips found his.
When my breath broke.
When everyone around us screamed in shock.
My pulse plummeted.
The video played in a loop.
Over and over.
My body betraying me in bright, undeniable clarity.
He watched my reaction carefully, as if he were reading a map stitched beneath my skin.
“Interesting angle, right?” His tone was light, conversational, as if he were pointing out a funny meme and not my humiliation. “Someone got close. Must’ve really wanted a front row seat.”
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted iron.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“Because,” he said softly, “you’re pretending.”
He stepped closer, not touching me, but near enough that I felt the gravity of him, the heat of him, the threat of him.
“Pretending you didn’t want it.”
Another step.
“Pretending you’re not thinking about it.”
Another step.
“Pretending you’d kiss me any differently if we did it again.”
My breath cracked in my throat.
He angled the phone until the screen was inches from my face. My mouth on his. My fingers in his hair. The moment before everything imploded.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “Hungry. Reckless. Kissing me like I belonged to you.”
“That’s not what happened,” I breathed.
He lifted his gaze from the phone to me.
And he smiled.
Not kind.
Not sweet.
Not even mocking.
It was worse.
It was knowing.
“Sure it is,” he said. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
