Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals, #1)(66)

Caleb glances down at me, and Tobias follows his eyes. He flinches when he registers me.

I tilt my head. “Do I—”

“Don’t,” Caleb snaps. He puts his hand on the small of my back, propelling me around the frozen man.

“I’ll call you later,” Tobias says to our backs.

Once we’re half a block away, I force us to slow down. “Who was that?”

Caleb shakes his head. “I thought we were still not asking questions.”

“You can’t just—”

His eyes flash. His hand slides around my neck, threading through my hair. He yanks my head back, exposing my throat.

“I can,” he murmurs.

There are still bite marks under my scarf and two layers of concealer.

He tugs the fabric away from my neck, eyes heating. “You covered them up.”

Slowly, he puts his thumb in his mouth and then rubs at my skin.

“There.” He releases me, grinning. “Now the world will know you’re mine. Don’t fucking hide it next time.”

We’d managed the day without him going all dark on me. And here we are…

I press my thighs together, ignoring the impact of his words on my body. Especially because we’re in the middle of the freaking sidewalk in Times Square.

People move past us like we’re rocks in the middle of a river.

He’s hungry, and I can’t help but feel the same. Like we’ve unwittingly been starving ourselves.

He touches my neck again, and then he straightens. He smirks at me.

He knows what he does to me.

My phone buzzes.

Unknown: How’s it feel to be so small in such a large city?





I choke on my gasp, shoving my phone back in my pocket.

Caleb raises an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Riley trying to be funny.” I clear my throat. Please don’t call me out on that lie.

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t question it.

We eat pizza at a diner on the second floor of a building. It overlooks the street. The people below, on the sid. They’re a sea of grays and blacks. When the sky opens up, suddenly every single person seems to have a black umbrella.

Caleb frowns. “I’ll call the car.”

We had left his at the edge of the city, then took a black car into Manhattan. The driver didn’t say a word to either of us, although I caught Caleb slipping him folded bills.

We sit in silence at our table, ignoring the looks from the waitstaff, until a car pulls up to the curb and Caleb’s phone chirps.

“Ready?”

The pizza was delicious. The diner was cute. The city is impossibly big and daunting and everything I could’ve imagined.

I can see how people would come here to chase their dreams. And I can see how the city would chew up anyone not a hundred percent committed.

“Yes.” I take his offered hand. “Let’s go home.”

Caleb opens the car door for me, letting me slide into the backseat first. He follows, closing us in, and scoots close to me. God, he’s a giant in this small space. I didn’t realize it before—no, I was ignoring it before—but his presence sucks up all the air in the car.

The driver glances back at us in the rearview mirror. “Have fun?”

Caleb smiles. “It was refreshing.”

The driver navigates back toward the outskirts of the city, and Caleb traces patterns on my leg. I try not to look at him, but soon, my body aches. One touch has me burning up.

We park next to Caleb’s Audi, and the driver climbs out, opening my door for me. He even offers his hand. I take it, letting him help me to my feet. Caleb scowls at him over the top of the car, and the driver releases me.

“Mr. Asher,” the driver says, inclining his head.

“I’ll call you,” Caleb answers. “Can you do that errand we discussed?”

The driver smiles. “Of course, sir.”

I look back and forth between them, but Caleb turns away before I can dissect the conversation further.

We get into Caleb’s car. Without warning, he reaches over and grabs the back of my neck, yanking me toward him. Our lips slam together, lips parting. His tongue slides into my mouth, invading my senses. I groan and press against him, forcing his tongue out of my mouth and into his. We’ve spontaneously combusted, igniting more heat than I could’ve imagined.

He tugs me over the center console and onto his lap.

I run my hands up and down his chest, then venture lower. I palm his dick through his pants, and he growls.

He’s hard.

I unzip his fly and reach in, fully grabbing him and pulling it out. It jerks in my hand.

I lean back a fraction. Our mouths are a hairsbreadth apart when I whisper, “Who’s Tobias?”

He glares at me. “You want to do this now?”

I stroke him, meeting his glare.

“You’re not going to like the answer,” he warns, exhaling sharply. “Fuck, Margo.”

He likes my hand on him. We’ve had sex, he’s gone down on me, but I’ve never… touched him like this. How selfish am I?

Selfish enough to resort to this to get answers.

“Tell me.” I lick my lips. We’re still close enough that my tongue touches his lips, too.