Page 30 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

He glances from the bottle to me, his eyebrow going up. He doesn’t even look at Eli, he just slowly shakes his head. “No, sorry.”

Amelie glares at him. “Seriously?”

He crosses his arms. “I’m not fucking kissing her, Amelie.”

She doesn’t frown like I expect—instead, she smiles. And then my heart drops. Seven minutes in heaven, isn’t that the consequence for refusing to kiss someone?

She glances at Jackie, who nods, and Skylar, who… pauses, then nods. Silent communication.

“Riley, you have to spend seven minutes in heaven with… Eli.”

Wasn’t she just warning me to stay away from him?

And the way he’s scowling at me, I’d like to take her advice.

But then he rises, jerking his head toward the doorway. I set my drink down and follow him on shaky legs, up the stairs. He checks a bedroom—judging from the yelps of surprise, it’s taken—and then another. The third one, he flips on a light and motions for me to enter.

Will we kiss?

Do other things?

The bedroom is small and plain. It’s probably an infrequently used guest room. There are two windows and a dresser between them. The ceiling light and fan hum together.

He closes us in and turns off the light.

“What are you doing?” My voice shakes.

“Making it believable.”

The dim moonlight streams in through the windows. My eyes take a moment to adjust, but it isn’t that dark.

“What are you going to do?” I whisper.

He comes closer, stopping just in front of me. “There are so many possibilities.”

I sway forward onto my toes.

His hand on my neck shocks me out of whatever delusion I was rolling with. He doesn’t squeeze, but holds me with steady, light pressure.

My skin is on fire.

He leans in, close enough that his breath touches my cheek. His lips brush my ear. “Were you hoping I was going to kiss you?”

“N-no,” I manage. “I had relatively low expectations.”

His thumb moves the barest amount on my throat, just below my ear, and goosebumps break out along my arms.

His cologne is faint, but it buries in my nose. I hate to admit it, but it’s the type of scent that makes a girl go weak in the knees.

“I would never kiss you,” he sneers, but then he does. His lips touch my temple.

I’m imagining this.

Maybe he likes to be contradictory. Maybe he likes to say one thing and do another, just to drill in the fact that he can’t be trusted. This whole thing is a mind game of his creation.

I turn my head slightly. I don’t know what I’m doing—I’d be better off remaining still. But instead, I seek out his lips. I kiss him.

His lips are soft. Unexpectedly so.

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