Kamrynn's POV
"I can't stop thinking about you," he continued, his voice trembling with intensity. "Your crystal blue eyes, your pink kissable lips, your intoxicating scent-it's like a drug. I can't pretend I don't want you anymore."
"Kyven, stop this," I said firmly. "You're drunk. You'll regret this tomorrow."
"I won't," he said, his voice resolute. "What do I have to do, Kamrynn? What will it take to prove I'm serious? Tell me where I'm lacking, and I'll fix it. Just stop treating me like a child."
"It's not about you," I said, my tone softening. "It's not your age or your looks. There's nothing wrong with you, Kyven."
"Then what is it?" he asked, his voice breaking. "Why can't you just give me a chance?"
"Because I'm the problem," I admitted, my eyes stinging. "I'm not fit for you, Kyven. You deserve someone better, someone whole."
His eyes darkened, and he hushed me with a firm warning. "Don't ever say that again. Don't talk about yourself like that, Kamrynn, because I won't stand for it. I don't care about your past. I don't care where you're from or who you've been with. Heck, I don't care what you've done. The only thing I know is that I want you. And that's never going to change."
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came. His sincerity left me speechless. Kyven's eyes were locked on mine, dark with intent, his lips curving into a faint, almost predatory smile. Before I could collect my thoughts, he surged forward and claimed my lips.
The kiss was hot, wet, and utterly consuming. His lips pressed against mine with a firm dominance that left no room for hesitation. I gasped in shock, and he took full advantage, his tongue slipping past my parted lips to explore my mouth with skill that made my head spin. The faint bitterness of alcohol mingled with his natural sweetness, creating an intoxicating blend that left me dizzy.
Kyven completely dominated the kiss, his tongue tangling with mine in a way that felt overwhelming yet thrilling. It was messy and unrestrained, his teeth grazing my lower lip as he deepened the kiss with an urgency that demanded my full surrender.
I'd never been kissed before-not by Calvin or anyone else-and I never imagined my first kiss would be like this. The heat of it, the way his hands tightened their grip on my arms, pulling me closer as if he couldn't get enough-it was unlike anything I'd ever felt.
For a moment, I let myself drown in it. My heart pounded in my chest as his hands slid down my sides, igniting a trail of fire with every touch. One hand splayed against my lower back, the other slipping dangerously close to my hip, and a jolt of exhilaration shot through me.
But then his hands began to roam lower, and reality slammed into me like a cold wave.
"Stop!" I pushed him away with all the strength I could muster, my hands bracing against his chest.
He stumbled back, his breathing ragged, and his lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss. "Kamrynn, I-"
"Don't," I cut him off sharply, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and something else I couldn't name. "Don't ever try something like that again."
For a moment, he looked genuinely regretful, his eyes searching mine for some kind of understanding. But I wasn't about to stand there and figure out what he was feeling. Without another word, I turned on my heel and stormed down the hallway, slamming my bedroom door behind me.
I leaned against the door, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. My heart was racing so fast I thought it might burst.
What just happened?
Aryna's voice was soft but teasing in the back of my mind. "That was... something."
"Something I want to forget," I muttered, peeling off my clothes with shaky hands.
My body was still humming, a frustrating and unfamiliar sensation that made me feel hot all over. I stepped into the shower, hoping the cold water would snap me out of it.
The icy spray hit my skin, and I let out a sharp gasp, my hands braced against the shower wall. But no matter how cold the water was, it couldn't wash away the memory of Kyven's lips or the way his tongue had claimed mine with such reckless abandon.
My fingers touched my lips instinctively, the phantom heat of his kiss still lingering.
"He's a good kisser," Aryna remarked slyly, her tone far too amused for my liking.
"Don't start," I warned aloud, though my voice lacked conviction.
"Admit it. You liked it," she pressed.
I groaned, leaning my forehead against the cool tiles. "The fact that I just lost my first kiss to a drunk 19 year old should embarrass me," I muttered, my cheeks burning.
"But it doesn't." Aryna's voice was smug. Because you felt something.
I didn't respond, letting the water cascade over me as I fought to push the memory away. But it was no use. The heat, the urgency, the way his touch had sent sparks skittering across my skin-it all lingered, refusing to be drowned out.
It scared me.
Because I wasn't sure what was more unsettling: that he'd kissed me so boldly or that a part of me had wanted more.