Page 48 of Under Locke & Key
I’ve never seen him look this confident, this teasing. I try to break his gaze, heat burning up my neck and cheeks, and it’s ridiculous that amanis making me feel this way. Ugh.
“Both,” I admit.
His chuckle is infectious and I chase it with one of my own. Hand dropping from my chin, he traces the back of his fingers down my neck and over my arm.
“Words, Rachel.” Bryce reminds me of that night outside my door.
“Bryce . . . I want to, I just don’t know how it’ll impact us working together.”
“So, put that aside for now. If it was just you and me, no escape room between us, would you be holding back?” His voice is soft, plaintive.
“No, but—” I start but don’t get to finish.
“—but we’re not at work right now. We are just two people at a parade. We can overthink this again on Monday. Right now I want to hold the hand of a stunning woman who’s had me off kilter since the first time I met her.”
“It’s mutual,” I admit, my resolve crumbling under the warmth of his eyes on me and the tingle where his touch just was. I want more.
He must be able to tell that I’ve given in because his uninjured hand twines with mine and he kisses the back of it before letting it drop between us. Connected.
Fuck me for finding it so sweet and unexpected. Especially given how hard we’ve been trying to avoid each other.
“So. Hungry?” He looks down at me as if he hasn’t just asked something with a double meaning I’m not ready to reveal. But he must see it in my eyes because his smile is smug and the sight of it has my core curling in anticipation.
Two can play at that game. Stroking my thumb against his hand I smile up at him, the edges sharp with competition. “Famished.”
The blush that pinks his cheeks is worth it.
We walk the path along the riverwalk, thankfully shaded because my shoulders are starting to prickle from the sun’s attention. Bryce raises my hand to his lips again while we wait at a crosswalk. Colorful people, chatter and the rumble of far-off music fills the air. He tugs me along, on the car side of the one-way street, his body a shield between me and anything that might harm.
Bryce does this constantly, without thinking. It’s innate. I thought it was just courtesy but maybe there’s more there. Maybe he feels . . . protective? The idea has butterflies dancing up my chest. I’ve never been the kind of person to be coddled, toletherself need anything or anyone. Self-reliance was an early life lesson. So what is it about this man that has me entertaining the idea of just letting myself unravel?
We both get hotdogs and bottled soda from a cart and find a shady spot beneath a yew tree away from the bustle of people. Grass tickling the back of my legs and Bryce’s hot hand on my thigh, atop my dress, it feels like a perfect summer day. Dulaney and Bryce, this moment and this spot, are right. I know then that even if things between us implode, even if I lose this, I won’t go back to D.C. Not when the time away has afforded me the chance to breathe.
My chest doesn’t cave in from the stress of Lakin-Cole everyday. My eyes aren’t blurry from staring at the same screen for eight plus hours stuck in a cubicle. I don’t have to go to bars just to feel something. Just wandering down the tree-covered streets of Dulaney, the riverwalk and the multitude of people taking a moment of peace has brought me a quiet I never thought I could have.
“What’s got you so deep in thought?” Bryce asks, pulling me from my reflection and when I turn to face him, he’s got a glob of ketchup at the corner of his mouth.
I wipe it away with my thumb, chuckling. “You’re a mess.” My laugh dies on my tongue when I suck the sauce off my finger.
His eyes track the movement, pupils dilated and hiding that honey and warmth from his irises. Hunger, unsated by our lunch, burns in his gaze and I know that something between us is about to shift.
“Words?” It’s gravel. It’s smoke and danger, and everything I’ve been trying to avoid for the last few months because my subconscious knows once I take that step, I’ll never find my way back unscathed.
“Yes,” I say and we surge closer, his hands gripping my waist.
Swinging my leg over to straddle his thick thighs, Bryce lifts his hold to envelop my face in both of his hands, the bandage on his injured one jarring in texture after the heat of his skin but I don’t have time to worry about it. Because he’s tugged me closer and my hands are on his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath, and the thunder of his heartbeat beneath them.
His mouth finds mine, too desperate to be tentative. Nips of his teeth sting against my bottom lip, a deep grumble from his mouth like he’s sampling and savoring a bite of something divine. Arms wrapping around my waist, and caging me against his chest, Bryce’s embrace is all encompassing. Like a dam breaking, everything we’ve restrained spills forth into one starved meeting of mouths.
A wolf whistle behind me has us stiffening and I realize with startling clarity that although we aren’t on the main riverwalk, we’re still in public.
“I guess you didn’t need my help deciding, after all,” Ángel says and I can hear the malicious glee in his tone.
Burying my face against Bryce’s neck, his grasp around me softens so that he’s tracing his fingertips along my spine in an attempt to soothe me.
“Come on, Rachel. I’m heading back home and I’d like to say goodbye before I leave.”
Whether he’s genuinely trying to save my dignity or to embarrass the shit out of me, I can’t tell, but I ease myself off of Bryce’s lap with a quick peck to his cheek and head toward my friend.
