Snatching the bottle off the table, I walked to the sink and started dumping its contents down the drain. “And I’m not letting you hurt yourself, either.”

“Son of a bitch!” Jared heaved at my back, and I shook the bottle nervously when I heard his quick footsteps behind me.

Jared snatched at the container, which was still a few sips from being empty, but I spun around to face him, keeping hold.

“This is none of your business. Just leave,” he growled. His breath fell on my face, smelling of whiskey and rain, and his wild eyes made my arms go weak. I almost released the bottle, overwhelmed by the force he used to get it away. As he yanked, my whole body jerked.

Well, this is new.

The Jared I’d gotten used to walked around calm and collected, but this Jared was desperate and reckless. I should be scared, but, for some reason, I was intoxicated with the face off.

I wanted this confrontation with Jared. I hungered for it.

We both breathed hard as we tried to get the bottle away from each other, but no one was giving up. His arms flexed with the struggle, and I felt the bottle start to slip out of my fingers. I knew I was going to lose.

“Stop it!” I cried. Was the f**king bottle that important?!

Get a grip, jerk! He’d obviously lost control, and I needed to snap him out of this.

I let the bottle go and slapped him across the face. His head twisted to the side with the impact, and my hand stung. I’d never hit Jared. Not even when we were kids and playing around.

Stunned and furious, Jared dropped the bottle to the floor, forgotten, and turned his vicious eyes on me. I gasped when he hoisted me off of my feet by my waist and slammed me down on the hard edge of the sink. Before I knew it, he had locked my wrists in a hold behind my back and positioned his body between my legs. He pulled me to him, roughly, and I was trapped. My chest rose and fell quickly, desperate for air.

Oh, God. “Let me go!” I screamed.

My body was constricted between his arms in back of me and his torso in front. His grip was tight, enough to keep me still but not enough to hurt. I tried to twist and wiggle my way free, but he only jerked me harder against him and tightened his hold.

“Jared, let me go.” I tried to make my voice sound forceful, but with the struggle, my strength had dwindled.

His eyes met mine, our faces less than an inch away from each other. Several moments passed as he held me, trying to stare me down.

But it didn’t work.

Once my gaze met his, it was impossible to look away. His eyes were like the cover of a book—giving you hints but not the whole story. And I wanted to know the story. If I searched his eyes long and hard enough, maybe what I craved would seep out.

Damn it!

Even with the liquor on his breath, he smelled incredible. Like some kind of bodywash that I wanted to wrap myself up in forever. My thighs were cold where his wet pants rubbed, but the rest of me was on fire. Heat spilled from the pores on my neck, and a drop of sweat glided between my br**sts where my chest touched his. Dizziness fogged my head with the pressure he was putting between my legs.

Our breathing matched up, and his expression was no longer angry.

He spoke shakily, almost sadly. “You f**ked me up today.”

I assumed he was talking about the monologue. “Good,” I bit out.

He jerked me again. “You wanted to hurt me? Did you get off on it? It felt good, didn’t it?”

Was he talking about me or him?

I tried to keep my face even, but my body tingled everywhere. His scent was all around me as he leaned in. Our bodies were melting together, our lips were so close. When I felt him harden between my legs, I squeezed my eyes shut, too afraid of why I wasn’t struggling anymore.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and stared boldly at him, my pulse throbbing in my ears.

He’s nothing to me. Nothing.

“No, I didn’t get off on it,” I answered calmly. “I feel nothing. You are nothing to me.”

He flinched. “Don’t say that.”

The heat from his mouth wafted around me as I leaned in. “Nothing,” I repeated, barely a whisper. “Now, get off—“

His mouth crashed down on mine, drowning out my protest.

His lips devoured me, hard and fast, like I was being eaten alive. His tongue dived into my mouth, and I let it, needing to feel all of him. The pulsing sensation in my core quickened, and I wrapped my legs around his waist before I closed my eyes, savoring the release.

I tried to think, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. All the years that we’d been apart filled this one moment.

He released my arms, threading one hand roughly through my hair and the other gripping my ass. Pulling my h*ps harder against his, he assaulted my mouth like he was starving. He sucked on my bottom lip and then turned his attention to my jaw and neck in hot, frenzied kisses. A legion of butterflies took flight in my stomach, and I moaned with the pleasure.

And I kissed him back.

Oh, my God! I was kissing him back!

“Jared,” I gasped out. He should stop. We should stop. But I forgot why.

I was lost.

I tightened my legs around his waist and grasped his wet hair, holding him to me, while he sucked on my neck. His left hand ran down my thigh, and I brought his lips back up to mine again, needing more. Pressure was building as he pressed our centers together. He groaned, and I didn’t want him to stop. Ever.

When he bent his head to nibble under my ear, images of him and K.C. in the hall yesterday flashed through my mind.