Page 55 of Hollow

I can’t look away from him. His eyes hold me captive as effectively as his body pressing me into the couch. There’s something almost punishing in his touch, like he’s trying to prove something to both of us.

“This what you want?” He crooks his fingers inside me in a way that makes my breath catch.

He adds a third finger, and it’s almost toomuch.

The stretch burns, delicious and sharp. My hips rise to meet his hand of their own accord. I don’t answer his question with words—I don’t need to. My body’s response is answer enough as I clench around his fingers.

His mouth curves into something not quite a smile. “Thought so.”

A knock at the door breaks us apart. Flint steps back, running a hand through his now completely disheveled hair as I scramble to put my clothes back on.

“Boss?” It’s the blue-haired bartender cracking the door and peeking in. “Sorry to interrupt, but Viktor Bastian just walked in. Thought you should know.”

The heat in Flint’s eyes instantly turns to alarm. “Keep him at the bar. Tell him I’m doing inventory.”

“Got it.”

Flint turns back to me right as I’m pulling my pants over my hips. “You need to leave. Now. Through the back.”

I button my pants and try to regain reason, trying to process the rapid shift. “Why is he here?”

“Could be coincidence. Could be he followed you.” Flint straightens his shirt. “Either way, you can’t be seen.”

He leads me to another door at the back of the office, opening it to reveal a narrow hallway.

“Follow this to the end. It’ll take you out behind the building. Go straight home, no detours.”

“Why do I need to sneak out? We could just say we’re talking. There’s nothing suspicious about that.”

His expression turns serious. “Viktor’s not an idiot. He’ll see you here, see me talking to you in private, and wonder why the Waters heiress is having secret meetings with the bartender right when he’s investigating his brother’s disappearance.”

“So?”

“So he’s looking for any reason to connect the dots. We can’t give him one.” His expression softens slightly. “Go home, Briar. Please.”

It’s the “please” that does it. That and hearing my name from him without any edge or sarcasm.

I nod, feeling awkward about what just happened between us. Heat rises to my cheeks as I realize I’ve gone from Damiano’s arms to Flint’s in less than twenty-four hours. What kind of person does that make me?

“Go,” he says, more urgently. “I’ll handle Viktor.”

Chapter 18

Briar

The back door of The Vault slams behind me, cutting off the bass that’s been vibrating through my bones for the past hour. Cold night air hits my face, sobering me up like a splash of ice water.

What the hell just happened in there?

My heart’s still racing from Flint’s hands on me, his mouth on mine, then that abrupt switch when Viktor showed up. I press my back against the brick wall, needing a second to gain my bearings.

The alley behind The Vault is pitch black except for one sad little light bulb above the door through which I just came. The damp air smells like garbage and stale beer. Glamorous.

I pull my cardigan tighter and push off from the wall. I need to get home before someone decides to check who slipped out the back.

My body still feels electric from Flint’s touch, nerves buzzing in places they definitelyshouldn’t be. God, what is wrong with me? One day I’m sleeping with Damiano, the next I’m practically begging Flint to take me on an office desk. Maybe my illness has reached my brain.

My face burns at the memory of how easily I’d spread my legs for him. How good it felt when he touched me. How much I wanted more.

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