After Our Kiss

I was thirteen when I was kidnapped.
Fourteen when he helped me escape.
Twenty-three before I ever saw him again.
His face is all over the news: he's a wanted man, now. Maybe my memory played tricks on me... but he looks so different. The boy who saved me years ago had a shy smile and dark, soulful eyes full of secrets.
This man has a hard jaw and a harder mouth. Lips that could never whisper sweet promises.
I knew him as a hero-my savior. I refuse to believe he could become a villain.
Not him.
Th...