Sloane
When Benedict pulls out of the parking lot, past the line of students who have stopped to stare at us, my lips are still tingling. I can still taste him. I don’t know what I taste like to him, but to me, he tastes better than anything I’ve ever tasted before.
It’s probably why I get lost when he kisses me. I try to resist. I try to make the kisses short so we’re not stared at. But then his tongue is in my mouth and Aisling begins purring in my head. Then, my head begins to spin, and before I know it, we’re making a spectacle of ourselves.
“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask him.
“Nope, but I will tell you that there is food involved. We have to stop and pick it up.”
“We’re not eating at a restaurant?” I ask, surprised. I would have thought that Benedict woul
