Page 38 of How to Steal a Galaxy

Makes me fall even more.

He opens his mouth to speak. “Ada—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” I say, each word soft, each syllable pulling me closer to him, to his lips, until I crush my mouth against his, until I taste the way he says my name.

“Ahem.”

I contemplate murdering stupid fucking Strom Fetor. Instead, I pull back at his stupid fucking voice and onlyvisualizepunching his stupid fucking face rather that actually following through on my heart’s desire. Becauseof courseit would be Strom Fucking Fetor that would interrupt me kissing Rian.

I glance at Rian, whose entire expression clearly says:Okay, yes, you were right, I hate him too; we should have let himdie in a fiery inferno of death.I might be paraphrasing that look.

When Rian turns to the man, though, he’s plastered on his professional mask.

“You’ve got a little something,” Fetor says before Rian can speak. He touches his own lips, a mirror to where a smear of red stains Rian’s.

So, I’m getting a little sloppy. Who can blame me? Lip gloss looks good on Rian, anyway.

Rian licks the corner of his mouth, his tongue still tasting my kiss. “Can I help you?”

I open my reticule and retouch my lip gloss, using the tiny mirror on the cap to check my face. The stain and protective layer I put on before keeps the red where it’s supposed to be; the gloss smeared on Rian’s skin but stayed in the lines on mine.

Fetor smirks at Rian. “I was going to invite you to the afterparty at my estate, but I can see you have plans.”

“No, I—” Rian starts, but Fetor cuts him off.

“I get it.” Fetor holds his hands up, palms out, as if placating Rian. “I’d make the same call.” He winks at me. “Thanks for the phone.”

“Consider it payment to never have to see you again,” I say brightly as I loop my arm through Rian’s. “He’s just walking me out now. If I can’t seduce him, I’ll send him to your little party.”

“You can come, too,” Fetor offers, speaking about five inches below my chin.

“I would rather evacuate myself from an airlock without a suit, giving myself over to the cold embrace of death,” I say cheerily, smiling brilliantly.

Fetor laughs as if I’d told him a joke, but I’m already pulling Rian toward the exit, my heels clacking on the stone floor.

“So, I do actually trust you enough to believe that you’re not working with the Jarra,” Rian says as we maneuver around drunk rich people. “But I have to admit I’m a little surprised you didn’t let Fetor’s hover stage crash down in a blaze of glory.”

I swallow down the distaste on my tongue. “Please, let us never speak of that again. I am mortally embarrassed to have missed that opportunity.”

I feel Rian’s pace slowing as we get closer to the big doors. The security has removed the scanners; they don’t care what we leave with. Rian knew this would happen; he helped set up security. And even as we get closer to the exit, I can see the gears turning in his mind, wondering what I’ve been able to steal right out from under his nose.

Sure enough, he pulls me to a stop in the little alcove where the guards had watched the prepaid pretense of a protest play out. “I’ve trailed you all day,” he says.

Except when you left me in Phoebe’s hands or had your goons watch me,I think.

“And you’ve not evenattemptedto steal anything,” Rian says. “At first, I thought it was that red Mission Control phone, but you just rejected going to Fetor’s afterparty, and if you were going to steal the phone...” His brow creases as he tries to wrangle his mind around logical thought. “You said before the trick was to move something you couldn’t steal. And you got Fetor to move the phone, but then you didn’t care about going to his party...”

“I don’t want to steal the phone,” I say. Truth.

He looks like he wants to argue, but he’s not sure which pieces to fit together to form the image in a jigsaw puzzle.

“Red phone, red herring.” I giggle, then I lean over and touch the smear of my gloss still on Rian’s lips. “Red stain.”

His head bends close to mine conspiratorially as his shoulders shake with almost-silent laughter. “Fetor’s face when he caught us,” Rian gasps out, and I almost feel bad for him, because when the drunken levity of this night leaves him, I’m pretty sure he’s going to be embarrassed about this. So, I kiss him again, an apology, and when I pull away, his eyes are dazed.

I tuck a lock of his disheveled hair behind his ear.

“You’ve not even attempted to steal anything,” Rian says slowly, as if he has to pull every word through fog before he can focus on them. “You’ve not only committed no violence—”

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