Page 12 of Savannah Royals
“I knew you weren’t. So I came to you. Come outside.”
Mellie snorts. I turn to her and bite my lip.
“Oh no.” She shakes her head. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I won’t be long,” I whisper, hitching a leg over the sill.
“Katarina, no.” She grabs my arm and tries to pull me back.
“Mellie, let go.”
“You’re going to get us both in frightful trouble, Kat. You can’t keep doing this. I’m going to tell. I mean it this time.”
“You’ve not said a word for three years,” I tell her, stone-faced. “You’re certainly not going to say anything now.”
She drops my arm. “You’re so stupid, Kat. So, so,sostupid.”
“Leave the sash open. I’ll be back soon.” I swing my other leg over the edge and find my usual toe holds in the weathered brick wall.
“And if I don’t?” Mellie whispers. “Leave it open?”
If you don’t, I’ll still be able to get in, but I’ll be out for your blood.
“Just leave it open, Mellie.”
After scampering down the wall, I follow Paul away from the Academy, rounding a corner and crossing the street to the deserted, moonlit Forsyth Park. We seek shelter within a thick grove of moss-draped oak trees before I turn on him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I told you.” He sticks his hands in his pockets. “I miss you.”
“We were together last night.” I fold my arms. “All of us.”
He frowns and says, “That’s not what I mean, Kat.”
I point to the Academy. “Mellie might haveseenyou.”
“So what?” He shrugs. “She has no clue who I am.”
“We agreed. If you need me, you send Abe. Always Abe.”
“I couldn’t send Abe to do this.” He reaches for me and brushes a lock of hair off my face. His fingers move over my cheeks, ghosting down to tickle my collarbone. Then he reaches behind my neck, slides his hands down my back and over my butt, pulling me in. He’s already hard.
“You’re thinking with your lower half,” I tell him, slightly annoyed, slightly thrilled.
I can’t help my body’s response to him. It’s been this way between us for years. No matter what my mouth says, my brain swirls with secret pleasure in knowing he came here, took this risk, purely for me.
“Maybe,” he admits, grinning. “I know you’re worn slap out, but let’s spend an hour together. Please. I really have missed you, Kat.”
It’s the earnest look on his face that undoes me. Paul never begs; this is as close as it gets.
“One hour,” I finally agree. “I trust you’ll make it worth my while?”
“Don’t I always?”
Paul’s hands work the buttons on the collar of my dress as his lips meet mine. His kisses are strong, hungry. The center of my gut clenches as my gaze sweeps the park for voyeurs.
“Paul,” I whisper his name, a familiar rush rising. The bottomlessly heady will-we-get-caught. The thrill from publicly doing something forbidden and reckless.
