Page 60 of Lizzy's Story

I gripped the back of his cotton shirt, and my other hand wound itself into the soft hairs at the back of his neck without my permission.

This kiss was nothing like the other. The tension was still there—no, tension wasn’t the right word. Pressure grew between us as our lips finally worked through the differences that had lingered for days until the friction’s sharp edges melted into something soft.

Darcy pulled away and rested his forehead against mine. “Still think you don’t like me?”

“Yes.” But my voice was too breathless to be convincing.

He took a step back, then another.

Nothing pulled at my wrist. The connection was broken. We were free.

He raised his arm with a smile. “At the very least, you don’t hate me anymore.”

“Don’t get a big head. Your crown won’t fit,” I mumbled.

He laughed and winked at me before walking from the room.

With a shake of my head, I followed him.

Some mysteries, like Easton’s murder, were meant to be solved, but others, like the man in front of me, I could spend a long time puzzling out. And I was starting to think I wouldn’t mind the challenge.