We’d been at it for what felt like hours, screaming, shoving, throwing knives with words sharper than steel.

Typical us. Typical Dazai, smirking like he had the upper hand even when my blood was boiling.

I slammed him back against the wall, chest heaving. “You’re such a goddamn—”

And before I could finish, his hand caught my wrist, twisting me in a blink, slamming me against the wall instead. My breath caught as he pressed closer, his body pinning mine.

The bastard was grinning. Always grinning.

“You hate me, huh?” he breathed, so close his lips almost brushed my ear.

My pulse hammered in my throat. I hated him, didn’t I?

That smirk, that voice that knew exactly where to cut deepest, the way he could make me want to punch him and..hell, drag him into bed in the same second.

I spat the words through clenched teeth. “More than anyone.”

And then he kissed me.

Hard. Messy. Like we’d been holding this back for years and the dam finally burst. My thoughts scrambled.

I should push him off, I should shove my fist through his face, but my hands betrayed me, fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.

His mouth was hot, demanding, desperate, and every ounce of anger I felt tangled with the heat building low in my gut.

Damn him. Damn me for letting this happen.

But God, I didn’t want to stop.