Page 133 of Look, Don't Touch

There, I’ve gotten him. He could never deal with that.

I should feel triumphant that I’ve figured a way out of the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Instead, I feel like my stomach just fell out of my body and dragged my heart down with it.

The corners of his mouth tip up.

Mine gapes. No words come out. I don’t understand what’s going on in his head.

“I think it’s time you met my friends.” He grins.

“I met them at the gala.”

He makes a noncommittal sound. “Not really.”

“What do you mean, not really?”

“I have one more secret.” His thumb wipes at the corners of my eyes. “Let me show you, and then you can decide if I’m a wildly jealous meathead who can’t handle having a partner or if I simply demand that people treat you right.”

“I know you’re not, and I know you do.”

“Knowing and seeing are two very different things.” He brushes my hair back from my face and cups my cheeks. “Will you come with me?”

I have no idea what he’s talking about or where he wants me to go, but I’m nodding because I can’t seem to let go of him, much less his lapels.

“Who told you I’d be here?” I ask as I cling to him.

“No one.” He gestures toward his parents’ and brother’s graves.

“Arlo.” I hug him tight and bury my face against his neck.

“Someone told me you’d been frequenting the cemetery, not that you’d be here today,” he confesses with a kiss to my temple.

“Nat?” I guess.

“Hota.”

I lean back and really look at him. There’s mischief in his gaze. “Stalker.” He points at himself. “Stalkee.” He points at me.

“Sounds like Hota is my stalker, not you.” My head shakes, and my smile peeks out.

“I had meetings I couldn’t miss.” His lips quirk. “How does it feel to know you had your very own ninja bodyguard?”

I should hate the invasion. I should recognize it as a red flag. Yet…my entire body warms at the idea of being watched by Arlo and Hota.

“Stalked.” I poke his ribs. “And loved.”

“Very loved.” He kisses my cheek, then turns us toward the car.

“I’ve never been in this section before,” I whisper over my shoulder as Arlo takes my coat and hands it to a large man, who it seems is in charge of welcoming guests and taking their coats.

“I know.” Arlo’s lips brush my earlobe, and I shiver. Already the pull of being in this place…with him by my side has my most intimate parts heavy and hot.

His hand presses to the small of my back. It’s skin-on-skin contact. My black skirt is knee-length and flowing, but my top is cropped just under my boobs. It’s cut low too, revealing most of my monsters.

“How do you know?” My voice is still low and cautious.

Yes, I’ve been to Crave many times, always with the highest levels of anonymity in place. Tonight is new.

“You started in the private rooms, Siren, bound and blindfolded from the first. I wasn’t quite so bold. It took me time to work my way there.” He ushers me into what, at first glance, appears to be a lush gentleman’s club for the New York elite. The kind where cigars are smoked and businesses are made and destroyed. “No matter how many times I came, I never saw you here.”

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