Page 151 of The Prince of Broken Crowns

Like him.

“Don’t fall for a royal,” my aunt once told me. “It’ll destroy you, Maddison.”

I believed her at the time, that she was telling me that because of the reputation royals had with northside women. Now I’m wondering if she said it because I could be an Everford.

No, there’s no way …

“I have class,” Finn informs us as he collects his bag from off the sofa. “But I’ll stop by the library and dig around some more later today. And then at tomorrow, at the society meeting, River and I will try to find out what they did with your phone and if they’ve read what’s on it.”

“Wait … meeting?” River turns, glancing at his brother. “Why the hell do I have to go?”

“Because you’re in the society now.” He slings the handle of his bag over his shoulder, items inside jingling. “I’m sure they’ll send you details sometime today, but I thought I’d give you a heads-up.”

River continues to frown as Finn heads for the door, throwing me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Once the door clicks shut, River rotates to face me again. He yanks his fingers through his dark hair, but wisps fall right back into his eyes.

“You’re stressed out,” I state the obvious. “Maybe you should get some rest.”

“What I need is to get you a phone.”

I rub my lips together. “Didn’t you just give me a lecture about resting after you get hurt? And weren’t you just shot?”

“It wasn’t even a real shot,” he mumbles. “It was a graze.”

I point at his side. “Those bruises are crazy, River. They have to hurt.”

“Maybe.” He studies me then reaches out and brushes his fingertips along my temple. “How’s your head?”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” I assure him as his fingers sketch down my cheek and to my jawline. “You keep touching me,” I murmur.

He stops moving his fingers but doesn’t pull away. “Do you want me to stop?”

I could say yes and stop this madness of flutters filling up my chest and stomach, but I don’t.

“No.”

He remains still for another slamming heartbeat before he gently traces his thumb along my bottom lip. His eyes zero in on my mouth, and then he leans in and places a soft, heart-melting kiss on my lips.

I let out the most embarrassingly yet quiet groan. To cover it up, I place my hand on the nape of his neck and guide him closer to me. We’re face-to-face, and our knees are pressed together. He lets go of my hand but only to place his palm against my cheek. Then he angles my head back and parts my lips with his tongue, kissing me so intensely I forget to breathe. When he bites down on my lip, a whimper fumbles from me.

He pulls back. “Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head, my pulse humming throughout my body. “No, not at all.” I start to lean in to kiss him, but he moves back.

“I want to kiss you so fucking badly.” His gaze descends to my mouth, and then he blinks. “But with the concussion, I just … I want to make sure your head’s clear when we do this.”

Do what exactly?

God, the possibilities are endless. I’ve never been super turned on by a guy, but I’m learning that when it happens, my imagination goes wild.

“For fake or for reals?” I wonder, questioning if I’d say the words if my brain wasn’t a bit foggy.

He must sense this, as well, because in typical sweet River style, he says, “Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

I nod then let out a yawn. “Sounds good to me.”

“You should go rest in my bed,” he says, standing to his feet. “And I can go get you a phone while you do.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m only resting if you are. Remember, injuries mean rest.”

---