Dash lowered his brows as confusion filled his gaze. “Prove what?”
“That it meant nothing.” Vivy’s cheeks burned, but she did not care. She had crossed the threshold and there was no retreating now. “Kiss me again.”
Dash’s eyes widened a fraction. “Vivy…”
“Kiss me,” she insisted, stepping closer until she was within reach. “If it was nothing, then it will be easy. You will do it and feel nothing. You will walk away and your precious control will remain intact.” His gaze dropped, briefly, to her mouth. Vivy’s breath hitched, hope and heat tangled together. “If it truly meant nothing,” she said, her voice lower now, almost shaking with her own need, “then prove it.”
She did not give him time to answer. She moved to him, swift, desperate, and fearless and fisted her hands in the front of his waistcoat as if she might drag the truth out of him by force. “Kiss me again,” she said, eyes blazing. “Or admit you lied.”
Dash had known or at least he should have known that she would not let it go. Vivy was not a girl who accepted half-truths simply because a man spoke them with authority. She was too astute, too stubborn, and too full of life. She had questioned him all the way into danger and she would certainly not allow him to retreat behind a lie meant to protect them both.
The worst of it, damnation, was that she was right. He had kissed her as though he could not breathe without her. Dash had kissed her as though every mile he had ever walked through enemy streets had led him straight to this moment—to her. He had kissed her like a man starving.
Then he had told her it changed nothing, because that was what he had trained himself to do. It had always been far better to deny the dangerous truth before it could be used against him. But Vivy had taken one look at him and seen through his carefully built defenses.
Now she stood before him with her hands fisted in his waistcoat, demanding a second kiss like a challenge thrown at his feet. Kiss her again…as if it were a simple thing. Kissing her would undo him entirely, and she must have realized that. Dash caught her wrists gently in his grasp…firm enough to stop her from tugging but careful enough not to hurt her. “You are provoking me,” he said in a quiet tone.
Vivy narrowed her gaze and said, “No. I am demanding honesty.”
“That is not the same thing.” He sounded like the fool he was but still he persisted.
“It is,” she shot back. “Because in this one instance our kiss is what you lied about. So, this is your way to show me I am wrong.” She tilted her head to the side. “Am I wrong, Dash?”
Dash’s jaw clenched. “You do not understand what you are asking.”
“I understand perfectly.” Her voice softened, but her eyes did not. “You kissed me like it mattered and then you tried to pretend it did not.”
Dash’s grip tightened a fraction at her wrists, and he hated himself for it. He hated how much he wanted to pull her into him again. How easily her scent, clean soap and faint rosewater, made the memory of her mouth on his feel like a wound. One he could heal by simply giving in to her demands.
“This is not…” he began.
“A game?” she cut in her breath quickening with each word she uttered. “No, it is not. You do not get to make me feel like a fool because you regret losing control.”
Regret…the word struck. Because he did not regret the kiss. He regretted what it meant. He looked down at her—at the flush in her cheeks, the fierce hope in her eyes, and the unshakable courage that would get her killed if he did not handle this with care.
“You should hate me for it,” Dash said roughly.
Vivy’s brows knit. “For what?”
“For bringing you into this,” he snapped. “For allowing danger into your life.”
Her mouth parted, then closed as fury rose. “You did not allow anything,” she hissed. “I was involved before you walked into my life again. Do not forget that note found its way into my reticule hours before we danced at the ball. This danger would have been something far worse if not for you.”
Dash frowned. “You don’t know…” But then he considered what she had said. “They would have left you alone once they realized you didn’t know anything.”
“You keep telling yourself that.” She shook her head. “Go ahead and lie to me and yourself again. You are quite good at it.”
“I am not lying to you,” he said in a harsh tone. “That kiss was a mistake.”
“Then perhaps you should not have kissed me like I was the only thing you had ever wanted.”
Dash’s chest tightened so sharply it almost hurt. He released her wrists, because if he held her any longer, he would drag her into him and lose the last shred of restraint he possessed. But Vivy did not move away. She stood there, close enough that he could feel the heat of her, and his body remembered everything from that kiss.
“I am not asking you to promise me the world,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “I am asking you not to lie to me.”
Dash stared at her. He had faced men with guns and blades. He had faced betrayal and blood and the sort of fear that settled into the soul. Nothing had ever unsettled him quite like this woman standing before him demanding truth. He forced himself to speak carefully, as if careful words might help him keep himself in check. “If I kiss you again, Vivy… It will not go as you think.”
Her brows rose. “What, pray tell, do you think I expect?”
