Aron didn’t mean to end up pressed against a library wall with Quinton’s lips ghosting over his jaw, but here they were—heat simmering between them, frustration twisting into something far more dangerous.

“You always this tense, princess?” Quinton murmured, smirking against Aron’s flushed skin, voice low and maddening.

Aron glared, fingers curling in Quinton’s shirt. “Call me that again and I’ll break your nose.”

Quinton leaned in closer, eyes gleaming. “Mm, promises, promises…”

Their mouths crashed together before either could come up with a better insult, all fire and defiance, like they were trying to out-burn each other.