"What do you mean?"
"That's what Emiliano said. You passed out when we— because of the pheromones going through the vent. He said that I withered your flower."
"You didn't see it with your own eyes."
"No."
"Kiss me."
"What?"
"You said you weren't disgusted by me."
"I am not."
"Then kiss me."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"But your pheromones-"
"I'll control them. Kiss me already!"
I leaned in closer.
I couldn't seem to catch my breath. Lucky for me, the sound of my heartbeat covered any other noise in the room.
I gulped.
I don't remember. How did he like being kissed?
You'd think I'd be more confident. I've kissed a lot of people — more than I'd admit out loud — and I usually don't overthink it. It's never been a big deal.
But with him, it wasn't the same.
Luther stood there like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
Like he could see right through all the easy charm I usually throw around and knew I was just trying not to mess this up.
