Page 13 of Broken Pieces
Finally, after giving her just enough time to stew in it, to think maybe I’m done, I glance back over my shoulder. Grin still there. Sharp. Cocky.
“Are you coming?”
She folds her arms tight across her chest, rolls her eyes hard enough to make a priest flinch, and fires back, “Where?”
It’s clipped.
Drenched in sarcasm.
But buried under the bite is something else.
A pause. A pulse. That soft edge of hesitation she hates me seeing.
I nod toward the alley.
The one behind the fence. Cracked concrete, rusted bins, graffiti bleeding through years of paint. It’s where I go when the walls press too hard. When breathing comes at a cost.
“Away from this shitshow,” I say, voice low. “Somewhere quiet enough to piss off the neighborhood.”
She snorts. One of those short, sharp sounds she doesn’t mean to let slip. “Real tempting.”
I shrug, let my grin stretch just enough to tease. “Thought you’d appreciate the view.”
Her brow lifts, eyes trailing down my body slow enough to make it count.
“Not bad,” she mutters. “Shame about the mouth.”
That smirk again. Crooked, dangerous, and carved from trouble. It’s sharp enough to leave scars if I get too close.
I laugh.
“Are you sure about that? Most girls can’t get enough of it.”
She rolls her eyes, but her boots move.
One step.
Then another. She remains silent and falls into step beside me with her hands buried deep in her pockets.
There’s a shift in the air. Hot. Unsteady. As if we’re both one breath away from doing something stupid.
She doesn’t look at me, but I feel her presence. She’s close enough that my cock’s already twitching with every second of silence she feeds me.
But fuck, the space between us is alive.
My pulse won’t settle. Not for a fucking second.
Every step’s a fuse lit under my skin, every breath edged with the kind of tension that begs for a fight or a fuck. She’s too close. Close enough that if I reached out, I’d drag her in and wreck us both without thinking twice.
We don’t speak.
Not because we’ve got nothing to say. But because everything we’re holding back is louder than words. Her energy sparks next to mine, humming with heat neither of us has the balls to name.
I don’t look at her. I fucking can’t.
If I do, I’ll say something I shouldn’t. I’ll bait her and she’ll bite.
I keep my eyes on the alley, on the cracked pavement, and the shadows that don’t ask questions.
