Love and Other Wicked Games (A Wicked Game Novel) by Olivia Fuller

grime that now covered it. “My mother is going to be terribly furious about this. More so that I won’t be able to tell her how it happened...”
    And what had happened, indeed. Ellie was still having a hard time wrapping her brain around it all. She was having a difficult time determining what was real and what was not, as if all of this might just be a dream. As she considered the possibilities she looked back to Cal, letting her eyes lock with his. For a moment she was lost inside of their emerald depths, and that was when she knew this could not possibly be a dream. Because no matter how she tried to cast it from her mind and how far away from him she stood, she could not stop thinking about their kiss and the way it made her feel.
    She remembered heat, lots of it, which flooded her lips the moment his mouth touched hers. From there it reached out, further and deeper, higher and lower, until the top of her head was on fire and the bottom of her feet were hot as coals. But it didn’t burn, not in the way that heat and fires normally do. Instead it was like ice. It was so hot it was cold. It was so cold it was hot. Like sitting in an ice bath and having boiling water poured over her head all at once. Her muscles tensed and contracted. She shivered and she gasped. And she wanted more.
    Nothing had ever felt so real to her. Nothing had ever felt so needing.
    As she continued to look at him, into him, a strand of his hair fell across his face and for just a moment she thought about going to him, reaching out, and brushing that hair away. And then kissing him again. They had been far too busy running after the first time for her to take everything in. She’d taken in a good deal, but something told her there would be so much more if only they had a chance to take their time. What exactly this “more” could be was only speculation to her, but the possibilities made her tingle.
    She’d never felt more wicked in her life, but she’d never felt more alive.
    Cal cleared his throat and Ellie looked away, embarrassed.
    “Your mother will be furious, will she? You don’t think your husband will care about your dress? Or that you’re here with me? Or that we… you know…” he asked in a rather satisfied manner. He was still sitting on the bed, legs up, hands behind his head, but his smile had turned into a dashing grin. “Or am I going to have to worry about hiding from him too?”
    Ellie was unable to help herself. She broke into a small fit of laughter.
    Cal raised a brow. “Is there something funny about all of this?”
    “No. Not at all,” Ellie managed in between laughs. “But the idea of me having a husband… me…”
    “You’re not married?”
    “No.” She shook her head quickly as if to show the absurdness of the idea. “No, of course not.”
    “How old are you? Five and twenty, right?”
    “Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.” She crossed her arms. “Why?”
    “Five and twenty. You never thought you should get married?”
    “Why should I be married?” she shot back with wide eyes. “How old are you? You never thought you should get married?”
    “One and thirty. And yes. Yes, I have thought about it.”
    “Why?” Ellie was genuinely curious now.
    “Well, I—” He raked his hand through his hair and shrugged. “Well, I suppose because that’s just the way things work. That’s the order of things. Marry, start a family…”
    “Why?” Ellie asked again.
    “Because that’s what you’re supposed to do.”
    “Says who?”
    “I don’t know. The world.”
    “Not my world,” Ellie laughed. “No one in my world ever told me I should or should not do anything. And I was certainly never told that I had to get married. I mean, that was half the reason my father gave up the title to begin with. I’d only just been born and my life was already being planned out for me. Without my say, or my consent. In his mind, that way of life was no better than the forced servitude he grew up