Copyright 2018 by Colleen Hoover

Fuck. I can’t breathe.
I’m aching everywhere because he’s so close, but I don’t know what I’m
allowed to do about it. I want to drop my fork, I want him to drop the plate of
cake, I want him to kiss me. But I’m not the married one here. I don’t want to
make the first move and he shouldn’t make the first move, but I’m desperate for
him.
He doesn’t drop the cake. Instead, he leans across me and places it on the
end table. In the same fluid movement, he brings his hand to my head and
presses his lips to mine. Even after all the anticipation I’ve held for this moment,
it still feels completely unexpected.
I close my eyes and drop the fork on the floor, leaning back into the arm of
the couch. He follows me, crawling on top of me, our lips never disconnecting. I
part my lips, and he sweeps his tongue inside my mouth. The slowness of the
kiss doesn’t last long. As soon as we get our first tastes of each other, the kiss
becomes manic. It’s everything I imagined kissing him would feel like.
Radiation, explosives, dynamite. Anything and everything dangerous.
We taste like chocolate as we trade kisses, back and forth, push and pull. His
hand is tangled in my hair, and with every second this kiss continues, we become
infused with the couch beneath us, him relaxing into me as I melt into the
cushions.
His mouth leaves mine in search of other parts of me he seems eager to taste.
My jaw, my neck, the tops of my breasts. It’s as if he’s been starving himself of
me. He’s kissing me and touching me with the hunger of a man who’s been
fasting his whole life.
His hand is sliding up my shirt and his fingers are warm, trickling over my
skin like drops of hot water.
He’s back at my mouth, but only momentarily. Long enough to find my
tongue before he pulls back and takes off his shirt. My hands go to his chest like
they belong there, pressed against the curves of his abdomen. I want to tell him
this is what I wished for when I blew out my candle, but I’m afraid any
conversation will lead him to think about what we’re doing and how we
shouldn’t be doing it, so I remain quiet.
I lean my head back against the arm of the couch, wanting him to explore
even more of me.
He does. He pulls off my shirt and sees that I’m not wearing a bra beneath
my pajamas. He groans, and it’s beautiful, and then he takes my nipple into his
mouth, forcing a whimper to escape my lips.
I lift my head to watch him, but my blood runs cold when my eyes are pulled

---

to the figure standing at the top of the stairs. She’s just standing there, watching
her husband as his mouth roams over my breast.
My entire body stiffens beneath Jeremy.
Verity’s fists clench at her sides before she rushes back in the direction of
her room.
I gasp, shoving him, pushing him. “Verity,” I say, breathless. He stops
kissing me and then lifts his head, but he doesn’t move. “Verity,” I say again,
wanting him to understand that he needs to get the fuck off me.
He lifts up onto his arms, confused.
“Verity!” I say again, but with more urgency. It’s all I can say. My fear has
taken hold of me and I struggle to inhale, to exhale.
What the fuck?
Jeremy is on his knees now, gripping the back of the couch as he moves
away. “I’m sorry.”
I pull my knees up and scoot to the far end of the couch, away from him. I
cover my mouth. “Oh, God.” The words crash against my trembling fingers.
He tries to touch my arm reassuringly, but I flinch. “I’m sorry,” he says
again. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
I’m shaking my head because he doesn’t understand. He thinks I’m upset
and feel guilty that he’s married, but I saw her. Standing. She was standing. I
point to the top of the stairs. “I saw her.” I whisper it, quietly, because I’m
terrified to say it louder. “She was standing at the top of the stairs.”
I can see the confusion cross his face as he turns to look at the stairs. He
looks back at me. “She can’t walk, Lowen.”
I’m not crazy. I stand up and back away from the couch, covering my bare
chest with my arm. I point at the stairs again, finding my voice this time. “Your
fucking wife was standing at the top of the fucking stairs, Jeremy! I know what I
saw!”
He sees in my eyes that I’m telling the truth. Two seconds pass before he’s
off the couch and running up the stairs, toward her bedroom.