Page 56 of Heart Thief

“It did. But everything feels good with you.”

“Everything?”

“Everything so far and everything I imagine doing with you.”

He faces me, so I turn and face him too. He reaches out and moves my hair out of my eyes. Gently, he cups my cheek. His simple touch makes my blood rush through my veins at an accelerated rate.

“You’re beautiful, Mila.”

My mind races as I ask in an uncertain tone. “What are we doing?” I’m very aware that we’re in Ryker’s bed, of all places. We’re alone, but it doesn’t feel like we are.

“What do you want us to be doing?”

I scoff. “That’s a dangerous question.”

“Now I gotta know the answer. Will it make me blush?”

I grab a pillow and hit him over the head with it a few times. He doesn’t fight back. He just laughs in response.

My phone rings, startling us. We both sober quickly as I pull it out of my pocket like it’s a ticking time bomb.

“It’s Ryker.”

“Don’t answer,” he says.

I slide my finger across my screen, turning it off. “I haven’t answered his calls for several days.”

“You haven’t?”

“No. He’s calling as though nothing has changed and I don’t know what to say to him.”

“Have things changed?” he asks, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

I guess he needs to hear me say it. “Yes. There’s someone new in my life.”

He raises his eyebrows in a flirty manner. “Who might that be?”

“The garbage man. Haven’t you noticed? He’s really cute with his bulging stomach and wifebeater t-shirts. I’m in love.”

He remains deadpan. “Hmm. I’m so jealous.”

“You should be.”

“It’s all right. Full disclosure here. I have another secret love too.”

“Who?”

“That gray-haired lady in apartment 2B. She’s always out walking her dog in the morning, wearing her flannel robe and fuzzy slippers, rollers in her hair, a ciggy between her fingers. Man, she gets me going every time.”

I hit him with the pillow again and he dissolves into laughter, holding his stomach as he rolls around on the bed. I can’t help but join him. What a goofball.

When we calm down, we face each other again. Our smiles slowly die. The air in the room feels heavy, like it’s pushing down on me, pushing us toward each other.

“It’s you, Zane. It’s you.” I whisper my words because I feel like I uttered something sacred.

He nods, discerning my meaning.

After a few moments, he says quietly, “We’re alone. No one watching, no one disapproving.”

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