The thought was acid in my throat. It burned through the haze of alcohol, through the pulse between my legs, until all that was left was this sick, rotting awareness.
God.
What the hell was I doing?
The taste of whiskey on my tongue suddenly made me want to gag. My skin didn't even feel like mine anymore. I felt… hollow. Like I was watching my own body move, my own lips part beneath his, but the person inside wasn't me.
It was wrong. All of it was wrong.
And it hit me... sharp, brutal... that if I kept going, if I let this happen, I'd be using him.
I'd be taking all the feelings he'd been holding for me and turning them into a shield for my own heartbreak.
"Stop," I breathed against his mouth, my hands still on his jaw but pushing lightly this time. "Sylas, this isn't a good idea."
He froze, but only barely. His chest rose fast against mine, breath hot, hands still clutching my waist like he wasn't ready to let go.
"Why not?" His voice was low, rough. "Tell me why."
