Scaramouche’s lips were only inches from yours; there was nothing between you. His eyes remained focused on yours, and your breaths seemed to hitch somewhat. His grip only increased, and he spoke through gritted teeth.

“I don’t take promises lightly, brat. If you speak, your lips will be mine.” He was completely serious. “If you move, I’ll kiss you.” “If you speak, our lips will touch.” He was clearly not joking.