Page 72 of Captive of Outlaws

And I don’t want that to happen.

I’m here in this silver-cloaked flower garden, freer than I’ve been in weeks, years, dressed exquisitely in an elegant gown with a beautiful golden god of a man staring me down like I’m the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen.

Maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m foolish, maybe I’m impulsive, but I know what kind of life I lead. A girl like me doesn’t get opportunities like this every day, if she ever gets them at all.

And I don’t want to lose my only chance to be kissed like this.

I close the distance between us and press my lips to his.

He’s surprised, I can tell. But he doesn’t resist, doesn’t pull back, but takes me by the waist and tugs me closer, with a surprising amount of force for someone usually so gentle. His lips are firm on mine, pressing harder, seeking deeper, and a small groan escapes his throat that lights a spark right in the center of me.

“God, Maren,” he whispers. “I’ve been dying to do this since I first laid eyes on you.”

The compliment sends heat flooding to my cheeks, and I take even more of him, feeling the dart of his tongue flickering feather-light as his grip tightens on my back. I pull him by his neck, tasting the richness of him, the warmth. It’s bliss.

I don’t know what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, who I even fucking am at this point.

It feels like two minutes ago I was a broke and desperateorphan girl about to lose everything, and now I’m dressed in a designer gown, stealing jewels from the assholes who cast me out of society the minute my parents were cold in the ground, and letting an ungodly hot man trace circles down the small of my back.

It feels too good to be true.

And maybe it is.

Because the next time our lips part, just for the barest half-second, a wave overtakes me. Powerful, disorienting, like the ground’s been yanked from under me.

No. No, no, no. Not now.

“Maren?”

Tuck’s face swims above me, stars wheeling behind him. There’s chill air where he was pressed against me, dizziness skittering through every nerve ending. I stumble a step or two backward, grabbing a branch for support. The brambles bite into my flesh as I grip it, but it steadies me—not fully, but enough.

When I open my eyes, Tuck is there, clear—well, clearer, concern tightening his handsome features.

“Maren,” he says. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t know—”

“It’s fine,” I manage. “Just my...condition. Probably should have skipped the champagne.”

Except the champagne was a while ago now. This was...something else. I shake my head.

“I’ll get the others,” Tuck says hurriedly. “We’ll abort the mission. Get you—”

“No,” I say, with as much force as I can manage, because that’s thelastthing I want. “No,” I say again, and shake my head gently. “I’m fine. I just need to...” I suck in a breath and stand myself back up properly. “I’ll be okay,” I mumble. “Justneed to get to the bathroom, splash some water on my face.”

Tuck rushes forward. “Do you need me to—”

“No,” I insist, and I start to believe it. The more time that elapses after the kiss, the steadier I feel. “I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself.”

Tuck smiles. “I know. But—”

I don’t wait for him to finish, and brush past him into the night.

Chapter Eighteen

I HOLD THE MARBLE COUNTERTOPand breathe in, out.

In, out.

After a few minutes—I don’t know exactly how long—the stars in my field of view have fully receded. My vision clears, at least enough to see my reflection.

---