CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND 

TWENTY-TWO

MELISSA'S POV 

Damn it. 

I was drunk.

She was probably not in her right senses too. 

The silence was too thick, and my eyes fell on his lips. Firm, smooth, full… like a magnetic attraction, I was drawn to them, and couldn't take my eyes off them. 

And he made the move. He placed his hand behind my head, and bent to kiss me. 

It was when his lips touched mine that I knew it—my body ached to be loved. It ached to be wanted, wanted to be remembered. I'd spend so many years aching for Darius who never looked my way that I forgot...