Page 46 of Faded Rhythm

I brush a tear from her cheek. Her skin is warm beneath my thumb. Soft, too.

She stares up at me, wounded and exhausted, and I suddenly realize how close we are.

Her chest is flush against mine, our legs tangled. I feel the shape of her beneath me, every inch, every curve, every subtle shift of her body. And I know she feels me, too.

Because I’m hard.

It’s impossible not to be.

My body has betrayed me. My mind is screaming at me to move, to not cross this line, but the way she feels…her warmth, her softness, her nipples brushing my chest, even her fucking eyes…I’m powerless to fight it.

She’s still, almost like she’s paused herself to prepare for what’s next. I wonder if it feels as inevitable to her as it does to me.

I lower my head slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop me.

She doesn’t.

I press my lips to hers.

They’re soft. Warm. Wet. Welcoming. My eyes close as I give in to the feeling.

Our lips part. When her tongue brushes against mine, tentative, then sure, I swear I feel the ground move beneath us.

She moans. Barely. A soft, needy sound that sends a violent shudder through my body.

I break the kiss and pull away. Because I can’t do this again. Not like this.

Despite her newfound freedom, she doesn’t move from her spot on the floor. She sits there, dazed, lips parted. Then slowly, she lifts her fingers to her mouth, pressing them against the lips I just tasted like she’s not sure the kiss actually happened.

I clear my throat. “Call Ebony.”

She nods.

While she dials, I grab my phone and fire off a message to the little bitch. I didn’t like how familiar old boy was with Sable, but he was right on the money when he gave Brett that name.

Check with the police

The response comes almost instantly.

You have no idea who you’re fucking with

I smirk.

I guess that makes two of us

When Sable hangs up, she looks up at me, her eyes glassy.

“Ebony’s taking care of it.”

But her face is still tight with worry.

I scrub a hand down my face. “This isn’t going at the pace it needs to.”

She looks relieved as if I’ve put words to something she’s been grappling with.

“What do we do?” she asks softly.

“Dig deep,” I say. “Think back. There has to be something.”

---