“What are you doing?”Finally, I found my voice.And was deeply relieved she hadn’t found my hidden credit cards.
The queen glanced up, one hand still buried in the box.“I was hungry.And this woman is selling an emerald bracelet the size of a pigeon egg.I need it.”
“You don’t,” I snapped, clutching the strap of my handbag tighter.
Owen made a strangled sound that was a laugh.I shot him a look.He straightened his face, but was still actively trying to keep it together.
I pressed a hand against my head.“It’s late,” I said.“Do not summon anyone from Wonderland to redecorate or help you buy anything off television.”
She shrugged.“I make no promises.”Then she shooed us away.“Be gone.The host is about to demonstrate the versatility of this handbag.I must watch.”
“Fine,” I said.“Stay here.Watch your show but do not touch anything that sparkles or hums.”
“Do not command me, or off with your head.”
I sighed.“That doesn’t work in this realm, Red.”
She gave a dismissive wave and reached for a another handful of crackers.Clearly we’d been dismissed.
Owen’s hand landed on the small of my back, warm and steady, and guided me toward the stairs.I let him.Away from cheddar dust, QVC, and the absurdity that the Red Queen was making herself at home in my living room.
He took my hand and lead me up the stairs.My legs felt like rubber and for one strange moment I felt like this was a dream—that any second, I’d wake up alone in my bed.
But his hand stayed tight on mine as we went up, then to my bedroom, still in darkness.
He pushed the door closed with a soft click and pulled me against him again—hands on my waist, mouth on mine.
When we broke, his hands came up, cupping my face, his thumb sweeping across my cheek.The intensity in his gaze was too much.A breath shuddered out of me.
“I told you before,” he said softly, “I wanted you.And I meant that.But I want you to be sure it’s what you want, too.”
I pressed a hand against his chest and felt the wild thumping of his heart.
He was… nervous.
Like me.
“I want you,” I whispered.
Then he kissed me.
He’d kissed me before, but this was different.Calmer.Surer.Sweeter—until the underlying need turned the edges of it dangerous.I leaned into him, my mouth yielding to his.He tasted faintly of cheap beer and peanuts and yearning.
Heat swept through me, threads of desire pulling taut.
My fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.One.Then two.Enough to graze the warm skin beneath.The tips of my fingers found the hollow of his throat.A soft touch.A reverent touch.
He made a low, appreciative sound as his hands slid into my hair.His mouth left mine for my cheek, then my neck—right over my hammering pulse.This time, there was no careful distance.Only choice.Only this.Only us.
He deepened the kiss.Slow.Methodical.No hurry at all.
It unraveled me.
And for the first time, I opened myself to this, to him.Let myself feel everything.Let myself hold on.Let myself have this one perfect moment where there were no monsters or flower shops or Crossroads demanding my attention.
Him and me and the dark.
I awoke cocooned in warmth—the steady hum of the air conditioning through the vent, and the soft snore of the man holding me like he’d never let go.My head was still on his chest, right where I’d fallen asleep.He hadn’t moved.I hadn’t moved.Still tangled together without so much as a breath between us.
