Page 63 of Brazen Criminals

“It won’t, Clara. This isn’t my first visit. Relax. It’ll be fun.”

Chapter 33

Jansen

Thedoorswingsoutafter I bump the second lock. I hold it open with my foot as I shimmy the keys on the ring back to the right order before tucking them into my back pocket. Clara is pacing in front of the door, her good arm drumming as fast as it can on her thigh.

Maybe I shouldn’t have done this, maybe it’s too soon.

But she was just so sad, and it always cheers me up to be somewhere I’m not supposed to be, seeing the world from above, a hawk in an aviary.

“We’re in,” I say, holding the door open for her. I decide that if she hesitates, we’ll go back to the car. I don’t want to make her bad day worse. I hold my breath, hoping. She does one last look around the park and ducks into the tower, almost sprinting. I grin as I close the door behind us.

We use our phones as flashlights, climbing the winding steps inside the tower. I imagine this must be what it’s like to visit a castle, the air cooler and slightly damp. “This is actually an old water tower,” I say, tapping the central cylinder we’re circling around.

“Is it active?” she asks from the step above me.

“No idea,” I say, allowing myself to watch her as she goes up the stairs. She’s wearing some T-shirt skirt thing that goes down past her knees, but the curve of her ass is nice from this angle, and I tuck my hands into my pockets to keep them to myself. I watch her calves instead, but I find the flex and release of those muscles intriguing too. Talking, talking will help. What should I say?

Clara saves me. “I take it Trips told you to come pick me up?”

“Yeah. He sent out a group SOS, and I was the first response.”

“You don’t have class?”

“Not until tonight. I don’t do well with morning classes. I sleep through them.”

We make it to the second door and then up the last stretch of stairs to the top. Clara gasps once she’s on the platform, wandering up to the stone banister in a daze, looking across the highway to the Mississippi, the small rapids glinting in the midday light. From here we can see both downtowns, twelve miles apart, just by walking from one side of the tower to the other.

“What do you think?” I whisper, not wanting to wipe the wonderment from Clara’s face. My heart races like it always does up here, alive and buoyant. If she feels even half of that, I don’t want to ruin it for her.

Her smile is bright when she turns toward me, and a few new tears gather in her eyes. She reaches up and strokes the side of my jaw. “It’s beautiful,” she says.

Her dark eyes shine with those unshed tears, finally happy ones this time. I run my finger down her cheek, the softness soothing, and the flutter in my chest settles into a steady beat. Touching her always seems to slow time.

Her good arm wraps behind my back, and I pull her close, her body warm against mine. I run my nose down hers, waiting, needing to know that this is what she wants.

She shifts closer, and without pausing, she presses her lips against mine. Time stops, the sound of the freeway fades, and I dive into her. I lick the crease of her lips and she opens for me, our tongues touching, dancing, getting to know each other’s rhythms. Her hand slides up my back to my neck, holding me close, as I dig my fingers into the cool strands of her dark hair, wanting more of her, all of her.

A soft moan slips from her and I double my efforts, wishing I’d planned ahead, brought a condom or something—just to have the option. This kiss is unlike any I’ve had before, and I don’t know how I’m going to keep from kissing Clara every moment of every day, from chasing the chance to feel this light, this clear, this focused.

Slowly, she pulls back, kissing me lightly with closed lips and tucking her head into the crook of my neck.

“Are you okay?” I ask, terrified I’ve done something wrong, that I pushed her too fast, that I’ll never get to feel this magic again. I hold my breath.

Her head bobs against me, but she doesn’t answer right away, turning her face so she can see the river again. We both practice breathing, my heart still steady in her touch. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she says after a long pause.

“Why?” I whisper, afraid of the answer.

A little huff escapes her nose. “I’m just really confused right now. And I don’t want to be confused about you. I want to be sure.”

Looking out across this city, the blue of skyscrapers glinting in the late summer sun, and I know I don’t want to stop, to wait, to go slow. But it’s not just about me. Not really. “I really like you, Clara. And while part of me says ‘screw it, it’ll work out,’ I get needing to be sure. I can wait.”

Her hand reaches up to my face again, forcing me to look down at her. “Are you sure?”

Brown eyes, scared, meet mine. “Do I want to wait? No. I’m not exactly the picture of patience, Clara. But for you? I’ll do the best I can.” I shrug, knowing that it’s a half-assed promise, but also knowing that if a situation presented itself and Clara needed a kiss, I’d happily give one, and then kick myself over it later. A small smile creases her cheek.

“This really is beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here.” She clears her throat, turning so her back is against my front while she looks out over the water.

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