Page 111 of The Villain We Tempt

“You can relax. Knives aren’t really my thing.”

I snort. “You just dry hump them on social media.”

He laughs darkly. “It’s a long story.”

“Maybe you'll tell me next time?”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Um…speaking of…” I clear my throat. “When, uh…” I frown and trail off, feeling weird even asking.

“Planning your social calendar, are you?”

I laugh lightly. “I just…I was wondering when I should expect the next time.”

“You want me totell youwhen I plan on surprising you again?”

I flash my teeth awkwardly. “Yyyy-es?”

“Oh, little villain,” he murmurs quietly, lowering his mask to my ear. “Where’s the fun in that?”

He has a point.

His thumb drags over my chin once more, the touch feathery and sensual in a way that clashes wonderfully with the unhinged madness he also shows me.

Then he turns to disappear into the shadows.

“Wait.”

The Ghost Prince pauses. He slowly turns to look at me over his shoulder.

“You’re right, I don’t think I want to know your name. But…” I take a shaky breath. “What color are your eyes?”

The Ghost Prince goes still, just staring at me as the silence drags on.

“Why?”

My shoulder lifts. “Maybe I’m psycho enough to want an anonymous masked man to continue to stalk me and…you know…”

“Go down on you? Make you come? Make you take it like a good girl?”

Jesus.

“Uh...yeah, that,” I blurt as heat erupts over my face. “But maybe I’mnotso psycho that I don’t want at leastsomeidea of what you look like?”

He holds my gaze as the seconds tick by in silence.

“Blue,” he finally growls. “My eyes are blue.”

I’m notgreat with secrets. Which, I understand, sounds weird given that I spend much of my free time in front of a camera andnottelling anyone I know about it. But aside from the whole Velvet Villainess thing, I really do suck at keeping hot bits of info inside.

I mean, if my friends divulge something…that’s different. That I’ll take to the grave.

But when it comes to myownsecrets? I’m a colander.

Papa and Dad still laugh about a phase I went through when I was five or six, where I would steal cookies only toimmediatelyfind one of them, mouth stuffed with the afore-mentioned klepto cookies, and confess my crimes with tears running down my face and chocolate chips falling out of my mouth.

All this is to say, after I watch The Ghost Prince leave, still thinking about wanting to kiss him, I find myself peeking into Ari’s room. She’s asleep, as any normal person would be at twelve-forty a.m. on Thursday night. But still…a huge part of mereallywants to wake her up and tell her everything.