The words were more furious fantasy than promise...a thing I said to armor myself, but they tasted like iron in my mouth. He blinked, just for a second, as if surprised I'd dared speak so brutally. Maybe that small flicker of worry was the only thing that kept me from backing down.
I didn't wait to see his reaction. Turning on my heel, I stormed out of the room, shoulders tense, steps brisk. My heart hammered as I walked away, and the sound of his breath behind me felt like daggers.
I hated myself for how my legs had wrapped around him, for how my lips had begged without permission. I hated the way my skin still tingled, the phantom of his hands on my waist making me ache.
By the time I reached the corridor, my hands were fists at my sides. I pressed my nails into my palms until the sting brought me back and forced me to breathe slower.
