Page 25 of Burning Daylight
It’s cooler out here, the air thick with smog and the faint rot of nearby dumpsters. A few stars blink dimly, buried like secrets the city doesn’t want anyone to find.
She’s already leaning against the brick wall in the alley, head tipped back toward the sky.
“Everything okay?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
Her shoulders stiffen and then relax like she already knew it was me. She cracks one eye open, just enough to look.
“God, you’re like a lost puppy,” she mutters.
My lips curve up, attraction flaring to life in my chest.Damn, she’s fun to rile up. She’s so wound tight and ready to snap.
“Does that mean you’ll pet me if I’m a good boy?”
She doesn’t answer, but her cheeks flush again, visible even under the alley light.
I pull out a hand-rolled joint, press it to my lips, and light it. Her eyes zero in immediately.
She raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s legal here.”
“It is,” I reply, exhaling slowly, and hold it up between us. “Does it bother you?”
She leans back against the wall, arms crossed. “Not really. Just further proves my ‘you’re a degenerate’ theory.”
I chuckle, but there’s a twinge in my chest that tightens at the worddegenerate. That’s probably what she’d think if she saw where I came from. Saw my mother strung out on the couch, a forgotten sketch in her lap.
“That’s quite the privileged take, Princess…thinking everyone who lights up is a degenerate. Must be nice, seeing the world in black and white.”
She doesn’t reply, but there’s a flicker of guilt in her eyes.
“How’s the boyfriend?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light even though I feel anything but.
“What boyfriend?”
Satisfaction and a hint of hope curls through me and sparks like an ember. “Couldn’t take the ice bitch persona or what?”
“I’m perfectly nice.”
“Right.” I smirk, taking another drag, letting the smoke twist between us.
“I don’t see how it’s your business, anyway,” she snaps.
Her tone doesn’t piss me off, but itdoesmake me think of how badly I want to fuck the attitude right out of her. How easy it would be to press her up against the wall and give her mouth something to wrap around besides the cutting words she loves to throw.
I crush the joint against the brick, and then I’m moving across the alley.
She startles, and backs up until her spine hits the wall, like she needs the stability. I close the space between us until I can feel the heat of her body flaring against mine.
Her breath hitches.
“I could make it my business,” I coax, letting my eyes drop to her mouth.
Andgoddamn, I want to taste her. Every single inch of her. I want to drag my hands down her sides, bury my face between her thighs, and let her claw at my hair while I fuck her with my tongue.
In fact, this chemistry between us is almosttoointense. I’ve never felt anything like it, and part of me wants to run away while I still have my wits.
But I don’t run. I don’t kiss her, either.
Her eyes flare, and we’re so close to touching that the warmth of her words blanket my lips.
