Page 82 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

“I don’t think anything can make me feel better.”

“We call this self-destructing,” Caleb says above me. He bends down and scoops me up.

I latch on to his neck and peer into his eyes. They’re so blue, I could fall into them.

“I’m not,” I promise. “Just…”

He exhales. “Just what?”

“Washing away today.”

His face shutters. “I’m taking you home.”

Riley bolts to her feet. “She can’t—”

“I know.” He carries me out of the house, down the driveway.

Hoots and hollers follow us.

“People are mean,” I mutter. I crane my head down. His is wrapped around my back, fingers curled on my rib cage. “Your knuckles are bruised.”

He frowns. “I’ve been hurt worse.”

“This is self-inflicted,” I argue. “Maybe you’re the self-destructing one.”

He chuckles darkly, setting my feet on the ground as he fishes out his keys. “Are you going to puke in my car?”

“No.” I cross my arms, indignant, but I have to uncross them a minute later so I don’t topple over. My balance is gone.

Shot.

“If you do…”

I raise my eyebrows, leaning against the car. He frames me in and smirks at me.

“You’ll what?” I ask. “Spank me?” I shiver, picturing how that might feel… and unable to hide the goosebumps that break out across my body.

“Margo?”

I blink up at him.

Caleb smiles. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His fingers trace up my sides, pushing the hem of my shirt up, too. “A little pain with your pleasure? Does it turn you on?”

“I—”

His hand slides into my pants, cupping me. “Soaked,” he murmurs. “How drunk are you?”

I shrug. “There are two of you.”

He exhales and moves me to the side, opening my door. “Get in. Before I do something I shouldn’t.”

Turns out… doing something he shouldn’t means kissing me in the driveway, both of us straining to get closer. He lifts me and slips his hand into my pants again. Doing something he shouldn’t means putting my hand to his erection, letting me feel him through his pants.

I need more. His tongue, his hands, his dick—I’m hot with the urge to jump his bones. In public. Against his freaking car, where anyone can see.

He pulls away.

“You’re drunk, Margo,” he whispers. “And I’m not a good enough guy to tell you no.”

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