His fingertips slid along my back, applying hardly any pressure, yet sending shock
waves over my flesh. Slowly, slowly, his hands moved across my skin, down the sides
of my stomach to finally rest in the curves of my hips. Just below my ear, I felt his lips
press against my neck, followed by another kiss just below it, then another, then
another. …
His lips moved from my neck toward my cheek and then finally found my mouth.
We kissed, wrapping ourselves closer together. My blood burned within me, and I felt
more alive in that moment than I ever had. I loved him, loved Christian so much that—
Christian?
Oh no.
Some coherent part of me immediately realized what was happening—and boy, was it
pissed off. The rest of me, however, was still actually living in this encounter,
experiencing it as though I was the one being touched and kissed. That part of me
couldn't break away. I'd merged too much with Lissa, and for all intents and purposes,
this was happening to me.
No, I told myself sternly. It's not real—not for you. Get out of there.
But how could I listen to logic when every nerve of my body was being set on fire?
You aren't her. This isn't your head. Get out.
His lips. There was nothing in the world right now except his lips.
It's not him. Get out.
The kisses were the same, exactly as I remembered with him. …
No, it's not Dimitri. Get out!
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