“Kiss me like you love me,” he says, my face in between his large hands, his thumb doing this circling motion in my cheeks that makes it hard for me to concentrate, his eyes pleading and begging for something I couldn’t pinpoint. And it suddenly feels like I’m holding his life in my palm and I’m both his saviour and destruction, and I could crush him with just a word, kill him, stab him, and he would still love me.
“I can’t,” I say. The pain that crosses in his eyes shoots directly in my heart.
I press my lips lightly on his.
“I can’t, for I already do.”
– – –
//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #14