Page 127 of Burning Daylight
The air is thick with humidity, and I feel it in my lungs. I pull her alongside me as we walk to the corner of the building and around the side of it until we’re completely out of sight if someone comes out the back door. I glance around, making sure nobody else is loitering, but we’re all alone.
Just us and an oddly high number of empty cars parked back here.
“That…was so dumb,” she whispers, ripping her hand away from mine and smacking me in the chest.
She glares like she’s mad atmefor what just happened.
My eyes widen. “How was thatmyfault? I’m not the one running off at a random bar and pulling on locked doors.” I step closer to her. “You should be thanking me.”
She scoffs. “I didn’t ask you to follow me.”
I throw my hands out to the sides. “Yet, here we are.”
She chews on her lip. “Clearly, being close to you in public isn’t a good thing.”
“You didn’t seem to mind all that much a few seconds ago,” I point out, grinning lewdly. Another step closer. “I know we have to lie to everyone else, but you don’t need to lie tome, Juliette. I enjoy knowing you fantasize about me.”
“Oh myGod, you never give up, do you?” Her cheeks flush, and she groans, palming her face. And then she breaks out into laughter.
I smile, happy that I can make her do that. It feels personal, like its sound is meant just for me.
“I’m sorry,” she says, straightening. “I’m mad that things are so complicated with us, and it’s confusing, and I just… I don’t want it to be.”
My heart twists. “I get it.”
Juliette glances around the back area, her brows furrowing. “Wonder why there are so many cars parked back here. Is this place reallythatbusy?”
Shrugging, I follow her line of sight. She’s not wrong. “Maybe they’re here for something else.”
She cocks a brow. “What else is on this street besides a few houses and shops that close at five?”
“You have a point.” I purse my lips. After being in that back hallway with her and seeing people come up from a locked basement door, I’m starting to wonder if there isn’t something else going on. Something that nobody is telling me.
It’s not just a bar.
That’s what Merrick said.
She runs a hand through her luscious, black hair, the curled ends falling over her shoulder and brushing against the top of her breasts. I fight like hell to keep my eyes gentlemanly.
“So, you want to tell me why you were snooping, Sherlock?” I ask.
“I wasn’t snooping.”
“Right.”
She pouts. “If you’re planning to argue with me the whole time we’re back here, then you should just leave.”
“We can kiss instead, if you want.”
Her face blooms and she hits me thatbe seriouslook that she loves to give. “You’re lucky I’ve even held your hand.”
“You’re right,” I agree, holding my fingers up in front of my face and moving them side to side. “My hand isn’t worthy enough to touch yours, if we’re being honest. But it did, so now we have a problem.”
“What’s that?” she asks.
“I’ve realized that holding your hand isn’t nearly enough.”
Her cheeks flush again, and she glances at the ground, then peers up at me from beneath her lashes. “Some people would argue holding hands is more intimate than kissing. Hands are what saints use to show devotion.”
