Page 70 of Fallen Crown

“You make me sound like a witch who should be burned at the stake.”

“Never. I’d hunt anyone who hurt you to the ends of the earth.”

Then he kisses me, and my heart is singing, intoxicated by his words and proximity. He sneaks his hand up the back of my damp shirt, and the skin-to-skin contact sends another jolt of desire through me. The rest of this adventure race is going to be torturous for reasons I’ve never encountered before. Lust. So much lust.

“Are we sneaking around?” Brice murmurs against my neck.

“Aren’t we?” I cling to his biceps, and coherent thought seems to have vanished from my mind.

“I don’t want to sneak around.”

His whispered words are like having a bucket of ice dumped on me, and I draw away from him, turning my face when he tries to kiss me again.

“I don’t want this”—I gesture between the two of us—“on camera.”

“You’re getting a divorce.”

Saying what’s caused this streak of panic inside me doesn’t feel right, but I can’t discount it either. Brice said it himself—he’s not the commitment guy. Putting whatever this is on blast across the world could ruin both of us. How would I look to everyone when he moves on to someone else? Perhaps even before the show airs.

“I don’t want to answer those questions later,” I say.

“It’s not like you’d go back to him.” Brice pins with me his gaze. “Tucker, tell me you wouldn’t take him back.”

“I cheated on him,” I whisper. “I couldn’t go back to him now.”

He pushes off the building and strides away from me and then paces back and forth. He runs his hands through his wet hair before putting his hands on his hips and staring at me.

“I feel like you should have more self-respect.”

His statement sets my teeth on edge, and I mirror his pose. “Self-respect? In what regard? Are we talking about this flirtation or fling or whatever you want to call it between you and me? Or the breakdown of my marriage?”

In the muted light from the bathroom window, his jaw tics. “Every time he comes up, we take ten steps backward.”

“How many steps forward are you and I actually going to take? Let’s be real.”

He closes the distance between us, and he backs me against the wall again, his lips connecting with mine with so much force that our teeth scrape before we’re devouring each other. There’s nothing tender or gentle about these kisses. They’re filled with our mutual frustration and desire.

When Brice breaks the kiss, we’re both breathing hard. “No more steps back. You want this—” He kisses me again, slow and deep. “To be a secret. Fine. But I’m not pretending, whether there’s a camera present or not, that I don’t care about you.”

He’s a jumble of mixed signals, but I’m not sure I want to sort them out right now. On the racecourse, we have to stay focused, or accidents happen. Wondering what I mean to him, questioning what I feel for him will only push us into emotional territory I’m not ready for.

“Stolen moments,” I say.

“I will gladly become a thief for you.”

There’s such a mix of sincerity, and that teasing quality I’ve come to love, that I kiss him again. I don’t know where this road of stolen moments will take us, but I don’t doubt that I want to walk it, even if it leaves my feet bruised and blistered.

Chapter Thirty-One

Brice

At every checkpoint and every area that has an out-of-the-way nook or cranny, Tucker and I snatch moments with each other. A kiss. A flick of a tongue against an earlobe. Her ass pressed against my pelvis, a delicious tease. Her fingers sneaking under my shirt and dancing along the small of my back. Each point of contact is carefully coordinated and crafted, and she’s driving me wild. Who knew delayed gratification could be so intoxicating?

Being around Tucker and not being with Tucker is such a fucking tease. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want her. Every move she makes draws my attention, and if I have any moments in the day where I’m not focused on getting ahead in this race, my thoughts wander back to her. It’s like my brain has been rewired, and each wire leads to Maren Tucker. If I didn’t enjoy how she makes me feel, I’d be worried about my mental health. The intensity of my feelings for her cannot be normal, but right now, I really don’t care. In life I’ve always been one to do what feels good, and being around Tucker is an incredible high.

At tonight’s checkpoint, Tucker leaves for the washrooms before me. Without discussing it, we’ve fallen into a pattern of staggering our exits from our teammates to make it less obvious something is going on. I’ve seen the looks Wren has been throwing us, though. She knows something is up, even if she isn’t sure what that something is. Likely she isn’t the only one.

Our flirting has become progressively less subtle, and I couldn’t be happier. The exhibitionist in me would love to grab Tucker and let our make-out sessions be for public consumption and inspection. People can think what they like, judge me in any way they want. Most of the people who don’t like me don’t know me. I’ve learned that nothing deters someone determined to think ill of me and my family. Besides, I know my truth and my worth.