Joyce Monroe had absolutely no memory of what happened after getting drunk on her birthday, so of course, she didn't remember kissing Silas Thorne. But he was just too close right now. His scent invaded her space, and combined with her guilty conscience, it sent her heart spiraling out of control, beating faster and faster...
Her eyes darted away, not daring to meet his gaze. Her line of sight drifted down unconsciously, only to land on his lips.
Thin.
Red, and moist.
They looked very kissable.
"If my lips were poisonous, you wouldn't still be alive," Silas Thorne said, his voice gentle.
"I don't remember anything about that night," Joyce Monroe said, looking away.
"Forgot? That doesn't mean it didn't happen."
Silas Thorne stared at her intently, his gaze seeming to have been steeped in wine until it carried a scalding heat. As it landed on Joyce Monroe's face, a blush burned its way onto her cheeks.
