Page 94 of Heart of Thieves

His eyes narrow. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

I thread my fingers into his hair. “Kiss me.”

He blinks once. “You want me to kiss you?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve decided on a life of celibacy,” I tease, tugging on his hair in the way that drew groans from deep inside him the last time we were this close. “You certainly were convincing in the elevator that day.”

He grins. “Oh, you won’t hear me complaining. It just doesn’t seem like something you would want—to be kissed by a liar.”

I duck close enough for him to taste my breath. “You said yourself humans like to be deceived.”

“You never liked it when I lied,” he says, mouth skating against mine. “You used to yell at me all the time about it, remember?”

“Candor or con?” I twist my ankles behind him, cinching myself flush against his torso.

A spasm rolls through him at the contact. “What if I pick candor?” he asks, eyes dilating, soullight guttering in his irises.

“Then I’d ask you why you’re so afraid of me.”

“You think highly of yourself.”

“You are afraid. Otherwise you would not hesitate.”

“What if I choose con?” His voice drops to a breath, hot on my mouth.

“Then I’d dare you to deceive me,” I say. “Make good on your reputation and your title. Kiss me so well and so thoroughly I forget it’s a lie. Make me believe it. Make me know it.”

One of his hands releases the hoop and snakes up my back, cradling the base of my skull, fingers tight in my curls, thumb stroking behind my ear as a grin quirks his mouth.

“Say ‘please.’”

Trembles shake through me. “Please,” I gasp.

He grins. “Good girl.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

NIC

It’s too much and yet not enough.

Laurel flits behind my eyes, prickles inside my ears, seeing and hearing all of this.

I thought I was behaving normally. Thought Lola would believe me, draw close enough to share a few secrets to get Laurel off my back. But somehow, without even dipping into my magic, Lola has picked up on my tiny deceptions.

She’s calling my bluff.

I release one of my hands from the hoop to lift the voratium frames from her nose. Her eyes revert back to their normal blue hue, the shape rounding, the left eye drifting outward.

“There you are,” I breathe.

She shivers as my words skate across her mouth, and the feel of those shivers . . . Gods.

Laurel is going to be upset.

But maybe I don’t care.

I clip Lola’s glasses to my collar, then slide my hand under her hair, tilting her head back. Her fingers tighten on my neck, and her tongue flicks out to wet her lower lip, setting off a cataclysm inside me. I cannot bear it any longer.