JUSTIN POV
I kissed her like I meant to erase every trace of that bastard from her lips. My mouth moved with hunger, frustration, and all the fucked-up feelings I'd buried too long. She tasted like coffee and defiance and something addictively June.
When I pulled back, her lips were parted, breath shaky — her eyes dazed.
Good.
Before she could throw up that damn wall again — the fake relationship card, the sarcastic deflections, the lies — I slid my hands down, gripped her thighs, and hoisted her up. She yelped, arms flailing instinctively before wrapping around my neck.
"Justin! What the hell are you—put me down!" she whisper-yelled, squirming a little.
I didn't answer.
I walked.
Right through the door. Past the hall. Let the stares come — let them fucking see. She was mine, and I was done pretending otherwise.
She buried her face in my chest, muttering curses, mortified.
"People are watching," she hissed into my shirt.
