Maybe I am a psychopath

Instead of meeting the floor like I had fully expected, I found myself caught—no, glued—in Asher's arms.

Strong. Solid. Unshakable.

I should have jumped out of his hold. I should have shoved him away and pretended like the feel of him didn't set my body on fire and send my thoughts spiraling into chaos. That would've been the normal thing to do. The sane thing.

But I didn't.

Instead, I let myself melt. Not all at once, but gradually, like my body gave up fighting the warmth he radiated and decided to just… give in. My cheek brushed against the side of his neck, and the heat that rolled off him made me feel stupid things. Warmth. Comfort. Safety. And I hated it. I hated it.

"I hate you so much," I whispered, not lifting my head.

"I know that you do," he murmured back, voice low and infuriatingly calm. His breath skimmed the shell of my ear, and just like that, a trail of goosebumps ran down my spine like he'd cast some wicked spell over me.