Cellie's POV
The thing about kissing Demetrio DeLeon was that it required your full attention or it took it anyway.
There was no halfway with him, no polite version, no measured or comfortable middle ground. He kissed the way he did everything else, with complete commitment to the outcome, and the outcome was me with my hands in his hair and my dress half undone and all the anger of the last several hours converted into something that had no patience for strategy.
He pulled back to breathe and his mouth found my neck immediately, no pause, the warmth of it against my pulse sending a shiver through me that I felt from my collarbone to the backs of my knees.
"Did he make your skin flush like this?" he said against my neck, low and specific.
It took me a moment to understand what he was asking. When I did, I felt the particular flutter of someone who has been given a loaded question and knows it and is deciding what to do with it.
