“What the hell were you thinking going to a fight with that douchebag?” Diarmuid yelled, his voice echoing into the night. The neighbours were probably already calling the cops on our fight, not that I cared right now.
“Me? What about you acting one way then dropping my hand like a hot potato as soon as we get near your date.”
His cheeks flushed and I knew I’d hit on a point.
“If I wasn’t there to get you out of the brawl, who the fuck knows what could have happened? That kid is a fucking loser. You don’t go out with him again.”
“How dare you think you can tell me who to see. You don’t want me, remember?” I choked on this bitter truth. “You have no fucking right.”
“Don’t want you?” He grabbed my upper arms. “Do you know what it does to me to think that he might be touching you? That he is allowed to touch you while I can’t?”
He was so angry he was practically vibrating with it, shaking me in his hands.
“It kills me, selkie, it fucking kills me.”
I sucked in a breath. His eyes, dark and intense, had never been so damn beautiful.
“I want you so much I’m choking with it,” he said. “I want to be yours so hard it hurts. I can’t be yours. I shouldn’t be yours. But I’m too fucking selfish. I need you—only you. The rest of the world can go to hell.”
I don’t know who moved first. It didn’t matter. Because we both lunged for each other, his hands yanking me to him.
Our lips collided. They parted, our tongues warring as we had been warring, fierce and passionate, with love and tenderness underneath it.
We were kissing like the world was ending right here in the middle of a public street, and I didn’t care.
I just wanted him.