Page 169 of Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals 3)

This was too much for her.

We pass by the police who are filtering in from the elevator, and I opt for the stairs. We get down three levels before I tug her to a stop.

“Look at me,” I say.

She doesn’t see me. Her gaze goes to my face, but she’s not here.

I walk her backwards, until she hits the wall.

She blinks up at me, squinting. “What are you doing?”

“Searching for you.” My lips touch the corner of her mouth.

She lets out a little breath but doesn’t move.

I move to her jaw, peppering kisses down the column of her throat. She’s immobile, letting me do whatever I want.

Until my teeth graze her skin, followed by my tongue. She tastes sweet.

I bite harder than I should.

Wake up.

She pushes against my chest. I soothe the tender spot with my tongue, and her pushing becomes pulling. Her hands fist in my shirt, dragging me closer.

I pull away from her neck, going for her lips. She’s ready, arching up. Her hands slip under the hem of my shirt, sliding—

“Are they still listening?” she whispers.

Shit.

I rip the tape off and lean down, until I’m almost touching the microphone. “I’m unplugging this so you can’t hear me kiss my girl.”

She huffs.

A small smile flickers across her face when I yank the mic apart and stuff it into my pocket.

“Better?” I wink.

I lift her hand. Her knuckles are bruised, and she winces when I prod it.

“Where’d you go?”

She looks away. “All of this could’ve been avoided if I had just remembered…”

“Or if I had paid closer attention.” I place my finger under her chin and turn her head back toward me. “We can’t blame ourselves for our parents’ actions.”

She shudders. “How do you stop blaming yourself? I feel physically nauseous.”

I consider her question. A lot of it is my fault—she didn’t realize anything was so vitally impaired until I brought it to her attention. A worm of guilt cuts through me, but I push it away.

“What would your therapist say?”

She makes a face. “She’d probably say some bullshit about forgiveness.”

“I forgive you,” I say automatically. “Do you forgive me?”

“I didn’t hold it against y—”

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