Josie
I shoved at Thorne's chest—not because I hated the kiss. That wasn't it at all. In fact, it was the exact opposite, and that was the problem. It threw me off balance, ripped the floor right out from beneath me. My fingers were still twisted in his shirt, and I had to force them to let go.
"Thorne—" I breathed, pulling back slightly. His mouth chased mine for a second before he stilled, hovering just inches away, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"What the hell was that supposed to be?" I asked, searching his face, trying to understand how we got from fighting to this. "You think kissing me makes up for ignoring me? For sitting on your ass while I drown out there?"
He didn't answer. He just stood there, jaw tight, the raw emotion from earlier swallowed up by that damn mask he always wore.
"You think you can just—"
"Leave," he cut me off, voice low and sharp like a blade.
I blinked. "What?"
"I said leave, Josie."
