Page 113 of My Dark Horse Prince

“Huh?” That’s what he’s worried about? “I told you I was going to tell my mom that.”

“We didn’t break up,” he says. “We’re doing better than ever.”

“Since we were never dating, ‘breaking up’ is the best term for what we did.” I cross my arms.

“Mirdza Strelkova, I’m starting to get really upset.”

I can’t help laughing. “You’re not upset enough already? Please.” I take a step closer and jab the center of his chest with one finger. If it lingers a bit, oh well. “If you can make up stupid lies, so can I. I couldn’t let my mother plan a wedding that was never going to happen. I improvised, alright?”

“Next time you improvise,” he says, “let me in on the play. I could have ruined things by not knowing.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” I say. “I made up that story to explain to my mom why she never saw you. Now, if we’re done. . .”

His hand flattens against the wall behind my head, trapping me in place. “We aren’t done.”

I swallow, his proximity changing my flirty, admiring feelings to low-key panic. “Grigoriy.”

His voice is a purr. “Mirdza.”

I exhale gustily. “I’m not just saying your name. That was my way of asking you to move so that I can leave.”

“I wasn’t just saying your name either,” he says. “It was my way of saying, no, I don’t want you to leave.” His head drops until it’s level with mine. “Mirdza.”

“What?”

His voice is a low, raspy whisper. “That time, when I said your name, I was saying that I wanted to kiss you.” His breath is warm on my face.

I can’t help thinking of the last time our lips touched. My heart accelerates, and a zing races up my spine.

He lowers his head half an inch. Then a bit more. . .and then his lips nearly reach mine. “Is that a yes?”

“No.” My voice is stupidly breathy, but I can’t seem to make it behave.

“Is it a firm no?” he asks. “Or is it negotiable?”

“What does that mean?” Nothing in the world makes sense right now. I want him to kiss me. . .badly. But I can’t say that. I’d sound like a lunatic.

“I’m either going to kiss you right this moment, or you’re going to tell everyone we’re not broken up.”

“Isn’t that backward?” I ask. “If we’re not broken up, isn’t that when we’d be kissing?”

His devilish eyes sparkle. “Good point.” His mouth closes over mine, angling and possessing, and shifting me until his hands are resting against my body on either side, and I wonder whether a person can actually melt into a wall.

It’s either that, or I’m going to become a puddle.

Nothing inside of me is doing what it’s supposed to. Every single part of my body feels too hot, and too gooey, and just too much. I should shove him away.

I told him I don’t want this.

So of course, my hands cup his face and drag him closer, my right hand traveling up even farther and twisting into his hair. I open my mouth to moan, and I almost say, “Mine.”

What’s wrong with me?

I want to crawl inside him and start putting up flags, marking him as taken for everyone to see. Which is absolutely insane.

“Wow, this barn must be hotter than it looks from the outside,” Kris says. “I could swear that Aleks pressed me against that very wall.”

More effective than a bucket of ice water.

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