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“His soft lips glide across my jaw. I’m dazzled by his touch, drugged by his promises, falling deeper and deeper into him. Before he reaches my mouth, I catch his hands and roll him off until he’s the one on his back, his wings no longer a hiding place but silky black pools along the ground. I prop my top half over his so I’m in control. “I can’t think,” I whisper. “You’re making me crazy.” “Insanity is the most pristine clarity.” He winds a leg around my hips and topples me onto him. “Let the lunacy in. Let it be your guide.” One corner of his mouth lifts to a boyish grin.”

“So many emotions flicker over him—astonishment, concern, remorse . . . and the always-present adoration. I raise my hand toward his face and he winces, as if anticipating a slap. Instead, I stroke his cheek and those beautifully expressive jewels under his eyes, then lift to my toes and press my lips to his. His flavor and warmth envelop me. He moans and cups my face on either side, kissing me deeper, but I pull back. “I love you,” I whisper, because he has a right to know the truth before I kill him.”

“He spins us both, wrapping us in his wings until I’m dazed and giggling. “I wanted to lift you above me and swing you in circles until we were both dizzy and laughing,” he murmurs against my neck as we tumble to the ground, trapped beneath his tented wings. My body aches on impact—but it’s a delicious ache. I can hardly breathe with the weight of his ribs covering mine, with the scent of his tobacco surrounding me, smothering and intoxicating. The curve of his smiling mouth glides along my collarbone and I gasp at the velvety sensation. I force his head up so I can look at him . . . break the spell. He slips the bejeweled headband from my hair, sweeping stray strands from my face. The slickness of his gloves grazes my eye markings. “I wanted to kiss your lips and share your breath,” he says softly as he leans close.”

“Before I can even ask what he means, he skims his licorice-scented lips across my forehead—just shy of touching—his warm breath dragging across my left eye patch, then down a cheek, toward my mouth. The corner of my mouth tickles as he passes over it; then his breath stops to hover across my chin. His palms rest against the wall on either side of my head. He lets the web serve as his hands, his breath serve as his lips, holding me immobile and kissing me without ever touching me.”

“"I’m not trying to lead you on. Or him, either.” Jeb’s frown deepens. “I know you’re not playing games. I also know you’re not the kind of girl who kisses a guy for no reason.” “You’re right. The first time was to get my wish back. And the second . . . it was supposed to be a peck on the cheek. He changed it to something more.” “Oh, come on!” Jeb shouts, causing me to flinch. “This is what makes me crazy. That you can’t admit it to me or yourself. You kissed him because you have feelings for him.””

“Oh, but my netherling side did, and she casts my human armor aside. She guides my hands, knots my fingers through his hair, teases his tongue with hers. She won’t let me pull away, because she wants to be there again. In Wonderland, where his tobacco-flavored kisses always take us . . . Because the things I loathe are the things she adores: His snark, his infuriating condescension. His menacing mastery of half-truths and riddles. The way he shoves me into the face of danger, forces me to look beyond my fears and reach for my full potential. Most of all, because he encourages me to believe in the madness ...in her . . . the darker side of myself: the queen who was born to reign over the Red kingdom and to give Wonderland a legacy of dreams and imagination. His gloved palms seek the bend of my waist, the bow of my hips. He moves me on top of him, so close there’s not enough space for a blade of grass between us. His kisses grow insistent, desperate. His flavor winds through me, fruit and smoke and earth, and other things born of shadows and storms . . . things I can’t put a name to.”

““I would’ve followed you anywhere,” he mumbles, his voice raw with agony. “All I ever wanted was to spend forever with my best friend. With the girl who gave life to my paintings. But I’m not the one who inspired your mosaics, am I? It was always Wonderland. That’s why you chose him.” “Chose him? It was a kiss, that’s all—” “It’s not the kiss. Sometimes words are louder than actions.” “Words . . . ? What words?” “The promise you gave him that you couldn’t give me.””

“His kisses fade to nuzzle along my face and neck, soft and poignant. "Al," he whispers. "You taste so sweet...like honeysuckle." "Don't," I murmur, in a daze. He draws back, eyes heavy and dark. "You want me to stop?" "No." I've fallen asleep praying for you to look at me like this. To touch me like this. "Don't break my heart." Moth shadows glide above him in the mirrored ceiling, distracting me from the fierceness of his frown. "I'd cut mine out first." I believe he would. Stretching to tiptoe, I clasp his ponytail. This time, I kiss him. He responds with a spine-tingling growl, fingers digging into my hips.”

“We're both so into it, neither of us hears the footsteps until a snarl breaks us apart. We turn to find Morpheus standing there with enough rage in his black eyes to send the Devil packing for heaven. Jeb tugs his fingers from the rings in my belt but keeps a hand at my lower back. I touch my lips; they're throbbing and gluttonous, hungry for more. "Wel, now, isn't that cozy?" Morpheus's voice isn't liquid this time. It grates like rusted nails along my eardrums. He peels off his gloves and slaps them against his palm, wings droopy and trailing the floor like a cape. "perhaps you might give Alyssa her lipstick back. We haven't time to find more before dinner."”

“I curse him silently for moving my hands as he raises them to study the scars. He kisses them, his lips a fluid brush along sensitive flesh, then places them on his cheeks. Mouth inches from mine, he whispers, "Forgive me for bringing you into this. There was no other way." His skin is softer than clouds must feel, and the tears gathering around my fingertips are hot and tangible. But are they sincere? Our breaths swirl between us, and his black eyes swallow me whole. My heart knocks against the bottom of his rib cage. I know what's coming next. I fear it. But it's the surest way to distract him and get the wish. And if it has to happen, I'm going to be the instigator. Rising up on my toes, I press my mouth to his. He moans, frees my wrists, and sweep-s me into his arms—sealing the teddy bear between us.”

“I coax my palm into his lapel in search of my wish, returning his feverish kiss. "Checkmate, you son of a bug," I say against his mouth two seconds before my fingers find an empty pocket. "Sleight of hand, blossom," he says right back. "'Tis in fact in my pants pocket, if you'd like to search there." I shove him off and drop to the floor, wiping my mouth. "It's mine!" "And you'll receive it when the time is right." His lips, all I can look at, tilt into that smug smile that I've come to detest. He motions toward the chair. "Sit. You've just been soundly kissed. No doubt you're short of breath." "Don't flatter yourself." I huff in an effort to hide the gulp of air and hold the teddy bear against my chest. "That kiss meant nothing. It had underlying motivation." "Oh, to be sure. That kiss was nothing if not motivational.”

“Jeb moans, wraps my legs around his waist, and holds me tight. He breaks contact just long enough to whisper, "Where'd you learn to kiss like that?" "You taught me." I recover my senses and realize what I said. "In my dreams." "Oh, yeah?" He nudges the indentation on my chin with his nose. "Been dreaming of me, too, huh?" "Ever since the day we met." Finally, the truth. He flashes his dimples. "Guess it's time for us to make some dreams come true, skater girl.”

“It's me I'm losing control of. Hundreds of sketches, and still can't get enough of your face." He traces the dimple in my chin with his thumb. "Your neck." His palm moves along my throat. "Your..." both hands find my waist and drag me off the table so we're standing toe tote. "I'm not wasting another second drawing you," he whispers against my lips, "when I can touch you instead." He presses his mouth to mine. A spark, hot and electric, jumps between us. Shock and sensation shimmer through me, aglow with his heat ad flavor. Six year of secret desire. Six years of denying that he's the orbit of my world. To think, he's been running from me, too.”