Page 66 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

I scoff. “Hardly. I don’t . . . I don’t really date much.”

“Why not? Surely it’s not for lack of attention. Since we’ve been on our date I’ve seen no less than ten guys I wanted to pummel because they were looking at you like their next meal.”

“I guess I’m just not one for relationships,” I say, crossing and uncrossing my legs. “It’s my job,” I admit. “Not many guys are willing to date a sex worker. I mean, they all think it’s great at first. The fact that I was a stripper and got naked for money means I’m super keen to fuck all the time, right? And now the phone sex thing? I must be a goddess in bed if all I do day and night is talk dirty. But then they quickly realize that I’m not the fantasy they thought I was.”

Joel is quiet for a long moment, then his free hand reaches out toward me. His finger traces the shape of my jaw, then the backs of his fingers brush along my cheek. The gentle touch of his hand on my skin electrifies every cell in my body. Finally, his fingers gently grasp my chin and tilt my face up to look at him. His eyes are serious, even though his mouth still holds that faint trace of humor.

“Then those guys are idiots,” he says. “Anyone who bothered to get to know you would know that this version of you is the best.”

My eyes begin to sting with emotion, and his gaze drops to my mouth, the slow-motion feeling of him leaning toward me shredding down my walls with such ease.

“Hey, you! You two can’t be in here!”

We whip around to find a police officer with a flashlight pointed right at us.

“Oh, shit,” I say, and before I can even think, I’m on my feet and grabbing Joel’s hand—pulling him down the aisle then up toward the stage.

“Stop! Stop right there!” the officer calls, his flashlight bouncing around the dark space as he chases us.

“Come on,” I say with a laugh, “I don’t feel like getting arrested today.”

“Me neither.” He chuckles breathily behind me.

The officer continues to yell after us, and before I know it we’re bursting through the back door and out into the alley.

“This way,” I say, pulling on his arm, the two of us laughing as we run.

My heart races, adrenaline pumping through my veins. This guy must think I’m crazy. Or maybe his crazy matches my own. Maybe that’s why he’s laughing with me and not running away.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

“Anywhere that isn’t here,” I heave out.

His fingers tighten around mine, and with a renewed sense of confidence we run, laughing at the way the officer shouts for us to stop.

When we turn another corner, I stop, Joel knocking right into me. “What are you?—”

“Quick, in here,” I say, jerking my chin over my shoulder. There’s a small raised alcove of bricks that has just enough space to hide two people, and with the sound of the officer catching up, I rush to pull myself up into it. Joel grins widely then follows, and we fall back into the shadow of our hiding place.

The sound of clunky footsteps approach and I hold my breath, squeezing farther into the darkness and realizing for the first time that Joel’s arm is wrapped around my waist. He seems to realize too, his lips parting. “Dusty?—”

My other hand clamps down on his mouth to keep him from saying anything more. His eyes widen but he stills.

“Where did those assholes go?” we hear, and I see the way Joel’s eyes look in the direction of the police in alarm. But I can’t stop from staring at his face. His tanned skin and laugh lines. The warm amber of his eyes and his silky black hair.

I lower my hand from his mouth. “Sorry,” I whisper.

He blinks. “It’s fine.”

The footsteps are gone now, but I can’t let him go. He smells like expensive cologne, and I’m reminded of our first encounter in Vegas. How it felt to have his body so close to mine. How desperate I was for him to touch me where he wasn’t allowed. How even now the spot between my legs throbs wantonly for it.

“I know you think you have to hide your real self from me,” he whispers, “but you don’t.”

My lips part, and he sweeps his thumb along my bottom lip. I inhale sharply, and his fingers tighten their grip on my waist just like they did two years ago, the memory of those beautiful bruises flooding my mind.

“I saw you. I’ve seen you. And I still want more.”

He drops his gaze to my lips, his hand gripping the nape of my neck before pulling me into a devastating kiss. We crash and roll and rumble—like the merging of two seas. Rough and fierce, soft and exquisite, all at the same time. He holds me to him, my body melting into his as though he’s the missing piece to my complicated jigsaw puzzle.

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