The kiss goes from intense to downright scorching, and as his lips move beneath mine, I can’t stop the tiny little sigh that slips from the back of my throat. His hands clench in response, digging into my sides as he deepens the kiss further.
All I can think about is the feel of his arms supporting me, the taste of him, the leather-and-mahogany smell of his cologne, the hard planes of his muscular body pressed against me. The sensational overload is almost too much for my brain to handle, and my mind goes blissfully fuzzy.
I gasp as his lips break away from mine, as I feel the oxygen rush into my lungs. There’s silence for a second, broken only by our ragged breaths intermingling. I can feel his chest heaving, and I know mine is doing the same. I restmy forehead against his, waiting until I can breathe steadily to speak.
But he beats me to it. “That,” he says, sounding shaken, “was…”
“I know,” I say. With a tinge of regret, I go down off my tiptoes, because my legs are starting to get shaky. He tugs me close, and when I rest my head against his chest, I can hear his heart racing.
I smile.Imade his heart race. And he’s being sogentle.
“Jewel—”
I push away from him, and he breaks off.
A sick understanding is suddenly dropping like lead in the pit of my stomach, a dull roaring in my ears.
Jewel.
Jewel.
“Jewel?” I manage to say.
Silence. Terrible, condemning silence.
I feel blindly above my head until I find the string hanging from the ceiling. I pull it, and the closet light snaps on.
And his face, his beautiful face, morphs from wary confusion to complete and utter horror. “Holland?”
We stare at each other for a few seconds until I can’t stand to see his expression anymore. I look at the floor, only looking back up at him when he swears under his breath.
“This—it wasn’t supposed to be you,” he says, his voice tight, his jaw clenching. “It was supposed to?—”
“To be Jewel,” I say, ice spreading rapidly through my veins. “Yeah. I get it.”
“I thought—her shirt looks like yours. And her hair—” He gestures to my hair, which I guess is similar in color and length to Jewel’s, now that I think about it.
To my horror, I feel tears stinging my eyes. And despitethe cold numbness spreading through me, my whole body is on fire—from humiliation, from embarrassment, from that stupid kiss. I begin tugging at the buttons of my cardigan, and Phoenix’s brows fly to his hairline.
“What are you doing?” he says. “Don’t take your shirt off?—”
“I have something on underneath,” I snap. I tug the cardigan off, and the temperature becomes moderately more bearable.
“That hardly qualifies as a shirt,” he says, gesturing at my tank top. His eyes linger on it for a second, and then they dart away. He swears again.
“Language,” I say, not bothering to keep my tone polite. This might be the worst day of my life. I put my hands on my hips. “And for someone so clearly opposed to kissing me, you seem to like how I look.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw as he clenches it. “I don’t have any particular feelings about how you look.” His eyes fly back to mine, dropping to my lips and then away again. “And even if I did, I’d still know that kissing you is a stupidly bad idea.”
Well, if that isn’t just the loveliest slap to the face.
He shifts his weight. “I made out with Trev’s sister,” he mutters, staring at the floor and running his hand through his messy hair.
This is a nightmare.
“Nothing happened,” I say, staring fixedly at the wall. I hate how tremulous my voice is, that my weakness is so obvious. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that it was an accident. Just forget about it.”
He’s silent for a second. “Holland,” he says, his voice strained but surprisingly kind. When I look up at him, I see the worst thing I’ve seen from him yet, far worse than hishorror: pity. “It’s not personal. But—you’re only eighteen. And I’m?—”
