I swallow hard as I stare at Riven, petrified. He’s standing in front of me, his arms horizontal and full of logs.
“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” the children chant around us.
Riven smiles teasingly. “Hey, it was your idea to decorate the house.”
I frown at him.
His smile falters slightly. “We don’t have to kiss if you don’t want to.”
I shrug as if I didn’t care. “It’s bad luck not to. Theater people are very superstitious.”
Since he can’t exactly grab me with his hands full of logs, I take a step closer to him and rise on tiptoes to give him a peck on the lips. The wood in his arms ensures enough space remains between us for things not to get too personal. But the moment my lips touch his, even if for just a second, they get seared. Heat spreads from my mouth to my face and neck and ears and
