SERAPHINA'S POV
I felt the sting across my palm before I realized that I'd slapped Kieran.
His head jerked to the side, and for a heartbeat, neither of us moved—me, shocked that my ex-husband had tried to kiss me; him, stunned that I'd dared to slap him.
How could this happen after we had already divorced?
My chest heaved as I braced my hand against his chest and shoved him away from me. He didn't budge, both his arms caged me against the lockers, his body radiating heat like a furnace. The scent of him—cedar and something darker, wilder—flooded my senses, making it hard to think.
"Have you gone raving mad?" I hissed, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.
In all the years Kieran and I were married, he'd never once kissed me—not my lips, at least. When we had sex, it was clinical, functional, a way for Kieran to take care of his needs. If at all his lips touched me, it was my neck or my tits, never anything so intimate as kissing me on the lips.
So what the hell was this?
