Page 105 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

I lean against my closet door, crossing my arms. “You’re home early.”

“Well, the restaurant was lovely. Service was a little too fast.” She shrugs. “We’re naturally homebodies, Robert and I. Decided we could go out to see a movie… or come home and snuggle on the couch.”

I force a laugh. Sweat is trickling down my spine—and I don’t think it’s from the sex that she just interrupted. “Well, makes sense.”

She grins. “I’m going to change. Come down and join us if you’d like. Robert is making popcorn!”

“Sounds good.”

She closes my door, and I sag against it. A second later, my body moves as Caleb forces it open.

“That was close,” he says. He’s fully dressed again, and he holds up my bra. “Figured you might want this back.”

I double take. “That’s the one you took on Monday.”

He shrugs. “I’ve got a replacement.”

“You also kept my torn panties,” I say. “You like to keep little trophies of your conquests?”

He chuckles. “No. But I do like help remembering your scent when I’m jacking off at night. And no offense, Wolfe, but bras don’t really do the trick in that department.”

I gape at him, my face getting hot. “You’re not—”

“Serious?” He smirks. “Deadly.”

Lenora taps on my door, and he ducks back into the closet. She doesn’t open it, though. Just asks, “Coming?”

“Be there in a minute!” My voice is an octave too high.

Caleb cracks the door, silently laughing at me. “I’ll just show myself out… via the window.” He winks.

He opens it and climbs out. And then he’s gone; the only trace of him is the scent of sex in the air.

Oh my god. I’ll just have to pray that Lenora didn’t notice.

I leave the window open and put on a sweatshirt, then go downstairs. I could use a distraction—and a movie sounds like the perfect one.

25

Caleb

I pull up outside the motel. The neon No Vacancy sign flickers sporadically. There are lights on in half the rooms at this time of night. Any one of them could hold her. It took only a few calls to figure out which motel she’d booked. Calls I made before I showed up at Margo’s house.

Margo almost erased the pressing need to come here… but then her foster parents got home early.

And the compulsion returned.

I force myself to relax, blowing air out through my mouth and sucking it in through my nose. I have time, but patience is another issue.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text. A second later, my passenger door opens, and Amelie slides into the car. I glance over long enough to take in her dress: red, leather, tight. Her breasts are pushed up to her throat. Her lips are coated in bright-red gloss.

I have a flash of Margo wearing the same color as a kid, threatening to kiss me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Amelie, unlocking my phone.

Eli: You need backup?

Me: No. I’ll handle it.