“Haven’t you?” Nero taunted. “Do you think we haven’t seen the way you watch us? The way you get so wet you drip?”
For the first time, Mia stiffened. “How—?”
“I. Saw. You,” he snarled each word. “I saw how wet she was.”
There was panic in her eyes now. I expected her to tear away and tell us to fuck off, but she stayed, trapped between us while Nero continued to hike up her dress.
“No panties, as I recall,” he went on, his voice a mocking purr. “Did you put any on before coming down here?”
To my every loving madness, she hesitated, but the answer was painfully clear when she dropped her gaze.
I had no idea what Nero was talking about. I hadn’t seen a damn thing, a fact that severely pissed me off. But it was shoved aside when Mia gave a startled whimper and jerked in my grasp.
Nero had reached her hem. The fabric was pulled up to her hips on both sides, forming a plaited curtain over her ass and front but revealing everything of her toned legs. His fingers were on her skin, tracing the curve of her hipbone.
“Still no panties,” he taunted, confirming the fact for himself.
Fuck me, I was hard.
I’d been hard from the moment I’d seen her, but now, it was throbbing with an intensity that I could barely stand. Just watching Nero with her, watching his hands disappear under the folds of her skirt, watching her eyes close and her head fall back the closer he came to her center was enough to make me want to...
A shot cracked somewhere behind us. The unmistakable sound of a gunshot ricocheted through the night, obliviating the moment we’d been captured in. Mia jumped, a startled cry leaving her lips. Her fingers leapt up and closed around my wrists. My own tightened around her.
“We need to go,” was all I said, desire overshadowed by the prospect of something happening to her.
Taken off guard by my tug, Mia stumbled when I pulled her into moving. I caught her without slowing our pace.
Nero didn’t say a word, but I knew he was thinking the same thing I was just from the way his dark eyes were raking over our surroundings. His hands had gone to the back of his pants where I knew he kept his Glock tucked inside his waistband and didn’t fall away until we’d reached the station doors.
“Gunshots?” Mia asked once we were inside.
“Car backfiring,” Nero answered almost automatically.
I didn’t know why he was lying to her. We’d heard enough gunfire to recognize the sound. But then I peered at Mia and understood. The flush we’d put in her cheeks had dissolved to white. The sultry passion in her eyes were clouded by fear. I hated it. Hated the way she was glancing around us as if expecting someone to attack. Hated the way she’d shrunk into the arms she’d folded around herself in protection, because it wasn’t for warmth.
“You’re safe,” I told her with more sharpness than I’d intended. “No one will touch you while we’re here.”
Her chin trembled and it was all I could do not to find the fucker with the gun and pistol whip them into unconsciousness.
“I know gunshots are a normal thing, but—”
“Hey,” Nero turned to her, features set in a firm line, “I told you, it was a car.”
To her credit, she didn’t cower under the stare that had most men pissing their pants. “Then why are you holding your gun?”
She had him there and Nero knew it. He narrowed his eyes at her, but very gingerly pulled his hands down to his sides.
“I’m a cautious man,” he mumbled.
Mia’s grin was slow before breaking into a full smile with teeth and a low chuckle that echoed off through the empty platform. “I’m glad for it.”
Nero seemed as startled by the smile as I was. We didn’t normally have people smiling at us, especially not good girls in white dresses. Those girls were usually warned never to make eye contact, to cross the street when they saw us coming, and for good reason. But not Mia. She never looked away, never crossed the street. She had no sense.
“The gun?” Nero asked, struggling a little with his question.
She shook her head. “You.”
With that world altering declaration, she moved to the time board bolted into the wall a short distance away. Most of the glass was covered in graffiti, but she stared through it like someone accustomed to reading through the paint. Neither me, nor Nero stopped her, both oddly fascinated by the tiny creature we’d found ourselves stuck with.