Page 84 of Heart of Thorns
I stare at her. “I… okay.”
“I’m just saying. For when this blows over, you know, it didn’t scare her away. She was saying what a gentleman you were on your date, and I know that sometimes you go too hard in thewooingdepartment, especially if you bring them home after?—”
My face heats. “I don’t?—”
“Oh, it’s fine, honey, we know you’re an active young man. Your father was the same way your age.”
Gross.
Briar wrinkles her nose and slowly sets her napkin on the table. “Excuse me, I’m just going to use the ladies’ room.”
She gets up and strides away from the table, and it takes everything in me to not leap up and follow her.
“Can you at least pretend to be nice?” I lean forward. “Would it kill you?”
“I just don’t see what the big deal is.” My mother’s expression sharpens. “She’s an art major? What do her parents do, Cassius? Work inretail?”
I recoil.
“I’ll be right back,” I snap. I toss my napkin down and head in the direction Briar went. The bathrooms are down a darker hallway, and I pause in front of the first door. It’s open, revealing a single-person one.
Which means she’s in the other.
Without thinking, I go to the closed door and rap my knuckles against the painted wood.
“Briar? It’s Thorne. Let me in.”
Silence.
She could totally be rejecting me right now. She could wait me out—how long would I stay here? Looking a little desperate or a lot foolish?
But then the door knob turns, and it swings inward.
I immediately step inside, all the anger of sitting there listening to my parentsshitbubbling up.
Briar’s expression is resolute. Her jaw clenched, her lips pressed together.
Can’t have that.
I approach her, and she backs away. I feel feral, but my hand is gentle when it reaches for her. My palm settles on her throat, and I continue to walk her to the far wall. Her heartbeat thrums against my fingers.
“Are you mad at me?”
She exhales. “No.”
“Maybe you should take it out on me anyway.”
I kiss her before she can reply. I kiss her until her lips part for me, and my tongue can sweep into her perfect mouth. I withdraw and bite her lower lip, tugging until she gives me a reaction.
A groan.
My fingers tense on her throat, and she makes another noise. Something caught between a whimper and a moan.
“What are we doing?” she asks, her lips brushing mine.
“Just a little balm,” I reply, my voice too ragged. She tears me to pieces without even trying. “Let me make us both feel better so we can go back out there together. Okay?”
“Okay.”