Page 61 of Fire Fight

I shrug. “Considering the first thing he did was pack me off to strangers for three months, it wasn’t great.”

Her head dips, hiding her face.

“Why? Do you still harbour dreams that one day, your real dad will seek you out?”

She stiffens at my teasing tone. The confession is one she made years back while the other kids in school daydreamed about being adopted. “I was worried they’d stick you in a group home, but boot camp sounds even worse.”

“You were worried, were you?”

When she turns to me, her teeth are sunk deep in her lower lip, an apologetic expression on her face. “I didn’t know how to talk to you. Everything I thought of saying just seemed like it would make it worse.” A sheen in her eyes catches the glow from the nearest streetlight. “I should have tried harder, especially when I thought they’d take you into care. I remember how awful it was to walk into a group home. Each time, I thought it would be better, but it got scarier.”

There’s fear in her voice, like she’s stripping herself naked. Her face looks impossibly young.

“I didn’t know you were in care.”

She shrugs, tucking some curls behind her ear. Her hair looks better down than scraped into its usual ponytail. My fingertips itch, wanting to touch. “It was never for long, just when Mum was struggling. The last time, I was ten.”

I smother my sympathy as it rises. My emotions are torn enough over Cadence without adding another layer into the mix.

My joint has gone out, and I busy myself relighting it even though it’s already working its magic. The tension eases from my shoulders, my nausea subsiding with each long-held breath. Asit goes, my need to touch her increases, aching to feel the weight of her breasts in my palm.

“You want a drag?” I offer the joint between finger and thumb, but she shakes her head, fingers curling against her lips.

“I’ve never tried it before.”

Holding in one long final inhalation, I wet my fingers to pinch it out, tucking the remnants back in my pocket before sliding along the bench. My fingers curl around her neck, drawing her close until our noses bump. Her eyes flare, lips parting as mine find hers, holding her steady as I exhale into her mouth.

She jolts in surprise, trying to withdraw, then relaxes as the sweet smoke flows from my lungs deep into hers. The periphery of my brain notes she didn’t pull away from my kiss, only from the smoke.

Excitement hums in my veins. A rush of anticipation.

I pull back, rubbing my thumb over her bottom lip, laughing at her tension. “Don’t worry. You won’t get high off that tiny puff.”

“No, I’m just going to smell like it.”

“You should explore your room further. You’ll find a bathroom where you can shower that scent away.” A scene the security cameras will capture. One I’ll delight in watching.

She waves a hand in front of her face, to far less effect than the salty breeze off the harbour.

A smile lights my face before frustration wipes it away.

I’m meant to be rewarding myself, not wooing her. Not sharing stories and bonding over our appalling childhoods.

When I walked into the theatre bathroom, I meant to force her onto her knees and instead… Instead, I touched her and couldn’t fight the impulse to please her. When her knees gave way, I helped her stand rather than taking advantage.

I could have dragged her into a cubicle, locked the door, and used her mouth until I felt the same shuddering release I’d given her while the boy shepretendsto want stood outside, listening to the sounds he’ll never pull from her throat.

With a grimace of impatience, I flick her collar.

“Come on. You took a ride in my car, and you know what that means. It’s time for your forfeit and those buttons won’t undo themselves.”

Her face creases into disappointment, then regret, then stubbornness. She folds her arms, staring in the opposite direction and I chuckle. “The longer you leave it, the more difficult it’ll be.”

She doesn’t respond outside a shiver.

Her dress doesn’t offer any protection against the cool evening breeze.

I slip off my jacket and drape it across her shoulders, using the lapels to bring her near enough to kiss again; no excuse this time, just the urgent need to feel her lips against mine.

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