"You really think I'd fall for your words again?"
"No," he said. "I think you already have. You're just scared to admit it."
She scoffed. "You're unbelievable."
He stepped closer. The air between them felt warmer. He tilted his head, his voice dipping with that maddening softness that always made her spine tingle.
"Tell me something, Heather... If I kissed you right now, would you still hate me after?"
Heather's heart skipped. Her face flushed, but she quickly masked it with a glare. "You're disgusting."
"Yet your pulse is racing," he murmured, daring to brush the back of his knuckle along her cheek. "Even now."
She slapped his hand away, but didn't step back. "Don't do that."
"I miss touching you."
"I don't care."
"I miss kissing you."
"Stop it."
"I miss you."
Heather swallowed hard. His words stirred things she didn't want to feel—ever again. She hated that he could still get under her skin. That some stupid part of her still cared.
