Page 128 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

“Whoa,” he says, taking the bowl from my hands. A little had sloshed over the edge, onto my fingers. “I think you’re afraid.”

I jerk back. “Afraid of what?”

“Happiness?” He scowls.

“Do you even like me?”

I think he may even love you.

Ian’s voice in my head is the last thing I want to hear. I hit my temple with the heel of my palm. Once. Twice. It’s automatic. The urge to get him out of my memory is startlingly strong.

He may even love you.

It’s on fucking repeat. I smack my head, my ears. Anything to forget Ian Fletcher’s voice.

“Margo,” Caleb says. “Stop.”

He grabs my wrists, but it isn’t enough.

One meltdown just became two.

I wrench myself away, almost falling off the couch, and then…

Caleb moves too fast. Faster than my mind can comprehend.

He stretches himself out on top of me, pinning me to the couch. He catches both of my wrists, yanking them up over my head.

It pulls on my stomach, my abs, and I cry out.

He doesn’t relent, though. This is the Caleb I know—the Caleb I deserve. His face is angry. Hell, furious. He leans down, his hips digging into mine.

“You don’t get to beat yourself up,” he whispers. “You don’t get to be cruel to yourself.”

“I can’t—”

“I don’t know what you fucking think you can’t do,” he growls.

His face is right over mine. Our legs are tangled together. His hands hold my wrist, but I can barely feel it.

Even when he’s angry, he’s gentle.

I meet his gaze.

“Face it, Margo. You’re a lot stronger than you think.”

I shift my hips.

He smirks. “You trying to proposition me?”

“It would be a good distraction.” I sigh.

“Is that what you want? Just a distraction?”

I ponder that. No, I don’t think I want just a distraction.

The answer must be written on my face, because his expression clears. He releases me and hops up. “What you need is sleep.”

I glance out the window. Sometime between us sitting and now, the sun set. “Is it even eight o’clock yet?”