Twisted-Games

I’d stopped crying, but my heart still ached for him. For us. For
everything we could never be because we lived in the world we lived in.
But right now, the rest of the world didn’t exist, and tomorrow hadn’t
come yet.
Last chance.
“Kiss me,” I said softly.
A shudder rolled through him. “Princess…” The nickname came out low
and rough. Pained. “We can’t. You’re my client.”
“Not here.” I wrapped my arms around him and placed one hand on his
chest, where his heart pumped fast and hard beneath my touch. “Here, I’m
just me, and you’re just you. Bucket list number four, Mr. Larsen.
Remember?”
“You don’t know what you’re asking me.”
“Yes, I do. I’m not drunk like I was the night after Borgia. I know exactly
what I’m doing.” I held my breath. “The question is, do you?”
I couldn’t see his face, but I could practically see the war raging inside
him.
He wanted me. I knew he did. But I didn’t know whether that was
enough.
The water rippled around us. More fireworks exploded in the distance.
And still, Rhys didn’t answer.
Just when I thought he would shut me down and walk away, he let out a
low curse, turned, and yanked me to him, and I only had time to draw a quick
breath before his hand fisted my hair and his mouth crashed down on mine.