Page 31 of Royally Ruined

“Come with me,” he hissed, forcing me through the sea of bodies and away from the noise. I hadn’t seen him so focused since he’d helped me escape the Dirty Dolls.

Out under the black sky, Costello led me over the cedar-chip trail. One of us stumbled; instead of regaining our balance, he yanked me onto the ground. Breathing hotly in my ear he curled his fingers over my spine, then my ass. The dress came up high; there was dirt on my knees, and I was fine with that.

“Kiss me,” he demanded, doing it before I could. “I want you so fucking badly. I’m taking you back to our room. Right now. Do you understand me?”

Costello looked into my eyes. I caught the way he was pleading with me, a man so eager to make me his, but so conflicted in the desire he could no longer fight. “Last night ... you said it was an accident,” I panted, still catching my breath.

“It was.” His irises were glowing. “One I want to repeat.”

- CHAPTER ELEVEN -

SCOTCH

Men who do dirty deeds shouldn’t taste so clean. It was like kissing a rushing river or pressing my lips to the side of a mountain: flavorless if I didn’t think too hard about it. It gave me the idea that Costello didn’t want to be remembered and that this wish had sunk deep into his skin.

But I was stripping away every hope he had of ever being forgotten.

I did it with my lips on his, with my hands clawing up his back and tugging at the seams of his well-fitted vest. Recording his smell, his taste, his everything was my new job, and I did it with gusto.

I’d never let him slip from my mind.

No matter what.

“Scotch,” he growled against my ear. The sound spun through me until my insides became cotton candy. All pretense of calling me by any other name was over. “Fucking hell, Scotch.”

“What is it?” I breathed, fighting to make sense of his tone. He’d said my name like a question, with a little uptick at the end.

The hallway lights outside our room were bright enough to trick you into thinking it wasn’t late at night. The wedding was still roaring outside; I could hear it through the thin walls and thinner windows that the owners called “rustic.”

Under that white glow, Costello’s eyes were clouded. He dropped his gaze to my chest. It made me blush like a reckless teen on prom night. “If we go in there,” he said slowly, “I won’t stop this. I won’t try to hold back any longer.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” I asked, starting to smile.

His fierce stare ended my humor. “Yes. It is. You don’t know me, Scotch.”

I lifted my chin and put my hand on his chest; his heart stuttered beneath. Fuck, that made me feelpowerful. “Maybe not. But you know that I’m bold enough to take down a maniac with just a bottle of champagne.” I wanted to ease the tension, but he just kept staring. “I’ll tell you one more thing about me. I never,everback down from something that I want.”

He’d left his hands steady on my shoulders. Abruptly he dug in, fingertips flexing, his jaw going so rigid I could see the tendons along his perfect neck. “You really have no idea how awful I am ... how dangerous this family is. If you did—”

“I’d still want you.” My eyes were straining. When had I last blinked? “And ... I do know. I know enough.” His thumb moved over my skin until he was cupping my chin, and I shivered helplessly. I just wanted him to kiss me again; kissing was better than all this angst. “I know more than you even realize. So shut up and drag me into the damn room.”

There—his delicious mouth twitched on one side. My brief delight at seeing his smile vanished along with the bright hallway lights. Costello was pushing me into the room, not pausing to flick the switch in here.

The door clapped like thunder at my heels. Costello was the black cloud, the lightning bolt. In the darkness he was a thousand mouths and a million hands and I wanted to feel every finger. Every fucking kiss. I wanted all of him.

If there had been a wall between us, I didn’t sense it any longer. The only hard piece of Costello was his cock as it pressed warmly on my belly. The dress was choking me, tangling around my upper body while I tried to wriggle out of it.

Agile fingers took over, freeing me of the outfit he’d surprised me with. I couldn’t see where it fell, but my eyesight was adjusting to the shadows. The window was only half-covered by curtains, light from either the moon or the reception highlighting the edges of everything with gold.

Costello was glowing like an angel. But he was nothing like an angel. I watched his tongue trace his lips, saw them spread, andfeltmy name before he even breathed it. “Scotch ...”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Get on the bed.”

Perching at the foot of it, I looked upward at his beautiful face. His scar wasn’t ugly, it was just one of the many mysteries of the world. Fun fact: I adore mysteries. And Costello was the biggest one I’d ever seen.

He reached under his vest, sliding his gun out from where it had been tucked safely away at his lower back. Seeing it sparked something in me.He kept that on him even at the wedding?He’d hidden it well, too, because when we’d danced I hadn’t felt the shape of it.

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