Under the rubble, in a crack of stone barely wider than the two of them, Blair had just asked Jace Monroe how he was this good at this.
"Lots of practice," he said, with an honesty that should have been illegal.
Blair kissed him again anyway, harder, because she had never learned how to do anything halfway. When she finally pulled back, she heard herself say it. "I'm going to win the bet. You're going to be mine."
"Maybe."
"Not maybe. Definitely. And when I win, when you're wearing that collar and following me around campus, this is what I'm going to make you do. Every single day." The rest of what she promised him came straight out of a false-bottom drawer of novels she had never admitted to owning, and she would deny every word of it until she died.
His smirk stayed, but something moved underneath it.
"That's a lot of confidence from someone who's never been kissed before tonight."
