Page 61 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

I watch my feet for the first steps. He steps forward with his left foot and I step back, just like he said. But when it’s my turn to step forward, I aim right for his foot.

He steps back quickly with a laugh.

When his foot comes forward for mine, I pull my leg up. “Hey!”

Lucian smiles at me. “It’s only fair.”

“Okay, okay.” I meet his gaze. “Truce?”

“Do you think I’d believe that for one second?”

I pucker my lips, and in one fast movement I smother his shoe under mine. “Nope,” I let out the word with a giggle.

“Dirty work, darling.”

I shrug. “It’s what I’m best at,” and I smile, “darling.”

“And there I was calling you gauche.”

I step in, tugging a piece of his dark wavy hair out of his face with a smirk. Just as he had done. “A horrible mistake,” I whisper mockingly. “I’m quite the flirt when I want to be.”

Lucian grabs my hand where I had smacked his. “I knew I made you want to be a flirt, Marquees. Is it the hair or the eyes?”

He smirks, his fingers drawing idle circles around my wrist. It shouldn’t feel this good. I shudder at the sensation that ripples through me—the burning, the adrenaline, the churning in my stomach.

But I don’t back away. Backing away would be a confession—to both myself and the prince.

“More like a sense of superiority.” He grabs my waist, pulling me closer. My breath catches. I don’t let it happen again when I say, “Someone has to put you in your place.”

“If my place is here,” Lucian says, his gaze going from my hand that he holds to my waist. “I’d say you should put me in my place more often.”

I will not let his touch bother me. I do not care that his hands are on my body.

That his eyes are on my body.

I do not care.

“You still want to try to step on my toes, don’t you?” I ask because I do care, and I need to back away before he notices.

“Darling, how could I possibly be thinking about anything other than how much my hands seem to be affecting you?”

“Well I happen to like beating you,” I say, twisting out of his hold. “So give me your all, Prince.”

“Oh, darling. I was planning on it.”

His right foot lunges for mine and I twirl out of the way and around him, running to the other side of the room and surprising myself with a laugh. A real laugh. The kind that leaves you breathless.

He pursues, laughing right along with me. We stand, facing one another. He makes mock movements toward me and I pretend to step back, but neither of us stretches the distance between us.

The prince runs for me and I jump on top of the dusty table. He waves his hand in the air and sneezes.

“You should get used to the dust, seeing as I’m gonna leave you in it,” I tease.

He comes to the edge of the table. “How do you feel about flying?”

“What?”

Then he picks me up by my legs, places me on the ground, and steps on my toes.

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