“It’s me,” I say.
Without another word, she buzzes me up. I take the stairs two at a time. In her apartment, she’s got printed-out photos laid all over her coffee table. There are men moving heavy bags, a fight caught mid-punch, as well as multiple drug deals.
She looks up at me, a small smile on her face, those bright, beautiful eyes alert with purpose.
I rush to her and pull her to me. I love the gasping noise she makes, part relief and part pure pleasure, with a little sassy resentment mixed in there. I think she might tell me to stop, that I can’t just turn up like this and start kissing her.
But then we melt into each other. Her lips find mine immediately. She moans and grips onto my sides, pulling herself closer, like she wants there to be no room between us. I slide myhands over her back and grip her hips tightly, possessively. I’ve never felt a rush of relief like this. It’s like the world suddenly makes sense again.
She leans back in my embrace, gasping. “What the hell?” she whimpers.
“I know,” I groan, not needing to ask what she means.
She feels it too: that instant heat, the flood of hunger and connection.
The kiss goes on for a long time. Her moans make me rock-hard, my tip pushing achingly against my pants. My heart is a war drum as I try to calm myself down and remind myself why I’m here.
I take a step back, nodding to the table. “This is reckless, Songbird.”
She smiles dangerously, tucking her hair behind her ear. She’s still wearing the earrings. “Maybe it is. But as long as Grandma’s safe, I don’t care.”
I study the photos. “I have to admit, you’ve done good work.”
“I can’t believe the cops missed all this. It’s so blatant.”
“Maybe they don’t know to look. Or they’re in on it.”
She bites her lip. “Do you think they could be workingwithhim?”
I drop onto the couch, laughing savagely. But it comes out more like a sob catching hoarsely in my throat.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” She sits beside me and puts her hand on my leg.
Heartache wars with lust as I imagine taking her wrist and guiding her higher and higher…
“I’ve got no right to hate you for what you did,” I murmur.
“That’s not what’s on your mind.”
I smirk, tilting my head at her. She looks back at me knowingly, eyebrow raised.
“You can read me like a text, eh?” I tease.
“You seem… different.”
“My moral code led me to cut things off with you after I learned what you did,” I tell her. “Now, I know my moral code is bullshit.”
“What do you mean?” She asks after a long pause.
I grit my teeth hard, wondering how I can explain this without having a full-scale breakdown.
“It’s complicated,” I mutter.
“Oh, and I’m stupid?” She teases, nudging me playfully, a beautiful smile on her face, taking any sting out of it.
“I told you about myUncle Seb,” I say.
“Hmm,” she mutters, nodding.
