People were quick to move out of his way as he strode toward me, each step simultaneously graceful and predatory. His gaze was trained on me, oblivious to anyone else around him, and his eyes were a shade away from black. My heart lodged in my throat, but I couldn’t look away.
He stopped in front of me, every muscle in his body tense as if he were prepared to fight anyone who got in our way. I should’ve stayed in the room with him because I suddenly realized he wasn’t worried about making a scene.
“Clearly, you haven’t remembered the most important part of this whole situation,” he said.
Before I could reply, he swept his hands along either side of my neck and pulled me to him. The instant his lips landed on mine, a collective gasp echoed through the room, followed by shocked whispers.
My eyes fluttered closed at his demand for submission—not that I was fighting him off—and then I heard the distinct clicks of numerous cell phones as people snapped pictures, and probably videos, too. It wasn’t every day the girl Simon Parker liked stood in the middle of his house, during his party, kissing another guy.
This kiss was unlike any other we’d shared—it was hard and demanding. Possessive. He was claiming me, and he wanted everyone to know it. Me included.
Because I’m his soulmate.
I knew I should care. I wanted to care. But that was hard to do with Trent stealing every breath I took and occupying every thought I had.
We were at his house, in his room, on his bed. I was straddling him, kissing him. And then the view changed. I was seeing myself through his eyes as he gazed up at me, hands behind his head. Sheer awe for my beauty, for the way my hair hung around my shoulders, the way my lashes framed my eyes, the way my lips were pink from his kisses.
Pride and arrogance for knowing he was the one I had chosen. And the lust! It nearly choked me, it was so strong. I could see the things he wanted to do to me, the ways he wanted to touch me. I could feel what he felt—every inch of his skin was alive with energy, crackling with need. His desire was euphoric. It consumed him.
And now it was consuming me, too. I ran my hands up his chest and hooked them around his neck, forcing him closer to me. He didn’t deny my request—then again, he never had.
“I’d drive a stake through my heart right now if you asked me to.” His words formed unbidden in my mind.
Then it became clear—that’s what he wanted me to know, that he’d do absolutely anything for me. All I had to do was ask.
I pulled away, breaking the kiss and our connection, and moved my hands to his face. “Trent,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.
God, I had no idea what to say to him. Whatever anger I’d felt moments ago was gone, and now, my heart just hurt. For him. For me. For Simon.
“I love you, Chloe.”
I hung my head, fighting back tears.
“Hey, look at me,” he said softly. He lifted my chin, and my breath caught at the love radiating from his gaze. “I realize I have no right to barge into your life like this, and believe me. I never meant to. I’m sorry, but regardless of how you feel about me, there are still things you need to know.”
“I—”
“But”—he interrupted me—“considering your current… commitments…” His gaze darted over my head, then back to me. His eyes had darkened considerably. “This has always been your choice.” He took my hands and held them for a second before giving them a gentle squeeze and releasing me. “And it’s your choice now, too.” He took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and put it in my hand. “That’s where I’m staying. Come find me, if you want to.”
He pressed a lingering kiss to my cheek, and then he was gone. I spun around to go after him and came face-to-face with Simon.
CHAPTER TWENTY:
Revelations
“SIMON.” DESPITE THE PARTY NOW BEING dead silent, my voice was barely audible.
He stood there staring at me with utter confusion and hurt. I did this to him—I caused that hurt playing out across his face. Pain sliced through me at that knowledge. I never wanted this. Simon didn’t deserve this.
I cleared my throat. “Simon. I—” I cleared my throat. “Can you please take me home?”
He nodded. “C’mon.” He spun on his heel and marched toward the front door.
I rushed after him, keeping my gaze straight ahead, not wanting to see what looks I’d get from everyone. I could only imagine what they’d say about me once I left. I wasn’t sure I even cared.
Silently, I climbed into Simon’s car. He pulled out of his driveway like his tires were on fire. I twisted my hands in my lap, too afraid to look at him.
“I knew he liked you. I could see it every time he looked at you, but I didn’t know you felt the same way,” Simon said. His voice was level and much too calm.
“I don’t know how I feel about him,” I lied, not wanting to hurt Simon any more than I already had.
He finally looked at me, and part of me wished he hadn’t. “That’s not how it looked when you were kissing him,” he said.
There was no way I could tell him the truth. With a deep breath, I said, “I’m sorry.” Because what else could I say?
He didn’t speak for the remainder of the drive to my house. He pulled into my driveway but didn’t shut off the car.
The silence stretched for much too long, and when I was positive he wasn’t
