Page 127 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

“You’re trouble.” He shakes his head and motions for me to stand. His gaze goes to my chest.

I forgot I was shirtless.

Slowly, I bring my arm up and cover my breasts.

He frowns, but for once, he doesn’t argue. He goes to his dresser, fishing around in a drawer for half a second before he’s back with a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

I take the clothes, bringing the shirt up to my nose. I don’t know why I do it with him watching me. Maybe I secretly like keeping him off guard.

Maybe it isn’t a secret.

His lips twitch when I inhale.

It smells like him. I slip the shirt on, the fabric concealing my face as I raise my arms. It hides my wince. He leans against the doorframe. I drop my skirt and slide his shorts on. If I wasn’t hurt, I’d be enjoying this more.

As it is, Lenora and Robert are probably going to kill me.

“What did you say to the Jenkinses?” I ask.

We both sit on the couch. There’s light coming in through the narrow windows toward the top of the basement walls. The windows are ground level. The curtains are open. I forgot, momentarily, that it’s still daytime. School is probably only just now getting out.

He smiles. “I actually called Eli. He’s going to have Riley talk to Lenora. But I told Robert in school that you and I were leaving.”

“I should get my phone. Make sure Riley’s okay with it. Lying.”

“I think you need rest,” he murmurs.

He puts his arm around me, and I lean my head on his shoulder. He turns on the televison, some mindless reality show about an international race, and we both kind of zone out. Every once in a while, he leans over and wipes a tear from my cheek.

I don’t know why I’m still crying.

“Painkillers.” He jumps up minutes or hours later. “I should’ve thought of that. Are you hungry?”

It feels like my internal organs went through a meat grinder.

I shake my head, and he frowns.

“Soup?” he asks.

“I’ll try.” The truth is, I might throw up. It could go either way.

He returns with Ibuprofen and a bowl of chicken noodle soup for me, and a sandwich for him. I sip the broth so he’ll stop staring at me.

Boys eat a lot. I knew that in the back of my mind from the past. Temporary foster brothers, boys at other schools I went to. But seeing Caleb inhale a sandwich, while I can barely keep down broth? With his physique, it just isn’t fair.

He’s got abs. The V that girls rave about. A trim waist and muscles. Hell, his face is gorgeous, too, but it’s the body that sells the whole package.

And he’s sitting next to me. How’d that happen?

“When’s the other shoe going to drop?” I ask.

He blinks. “What?”

“This is nice. Like, you’re being nice. Something is bound to go wrong.”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to go wrong.”

I straighten as much as I can. “So, what? We’ll live happily ever after and get married and have babies—”