“That’s more like it,” Mal said, triumphant.
“Great to hear that I’ve redeemed myself,” I said. I peered toward the carousel entrance; a beleaguered woman in a wide-brimmed hat and a bald man had approached with their kids. “You got what you need? I think our time is up.”
Mal craned his neck. The red-bearded carousel attendantwaved at him, slicing into the air in a universalyou’re cut offsymbol, and Mal responded with a good-natured wave back.
“Ah, well,” he said, capping his lens. “I’m not mad at it.”
“Yeah, should probably let an actual kid use this thing, huh,” I said, making to slide off the seal. Before I could dismount, my sandal slid off with me, and I cursed; the laces, which had been wrapped around my leg to the knee, had loosened and now flopped in a sad tangle around my left ankle. “Oh no. Did that mess up the shot?”
“Oooh, let me check,” Mal said. He took a moment to dial through his gallery, then gave me a thumbs-up. “Nope, we’re good.”
“Thank goodness.”
I eased myself to my feet, wobbling as my heel slid out of the shoe entirely. I’d chosen these particular gladiators for their short, comfortable block heel, but today, they were failing me spectacularly. The little boy at the entrance was tugging his mother’s hand as he picked out his steed, and I sighed, pulling aside layers of tulle to right myself before Red Beard could set the carousel spinning.
A hand on my elbow stopped me in my tracks.
“Wait,” Mal said, and then, without a second’s hesitation, he dropped to his knees and hoisted my foot onto his thigh.
“Whoa,” I said, so shocked by his touch that I nearly snatched my leg away. “What are you—”
“Relax,” Mal said. “I don’t want you to fall.”
Blood rushed to my head. A hypocrite, I opened my mouth to complain, then clamped it shut again. If Mal noticed my mortification, he didn’t show it, busying himself by winding the laces up my calf with alarming efficiency, his fingers barely ghosting overmy skin as he worked. From my vantage point, he was nothing but compacted curls, broad shoulders, careful veined hands. The carousel music sounded distant and distorted behind my ringing ears, like I’d dunked my head underwater, and a silly, girlish thought came to my head:This is what Cinderella must’ve felt like.
Good lord. Why should I give a shit about Ezra Adelman when I had fine-ass Malcolm Waters on his knees in front of me right now?
“Where’d you learn this move?” I said, trying to keep my voice even as he skimmed past the sensitive skin at the back of my knee.
Mal tilted his head up to look at me, a self-satisfied twinkle in his eye.
“Nowhere,” he said. “This is just good old-fashioned chivalry.” He pressed a knot into my shin with his thumb, pulled the bow tight. When he was done, he cradled my calf in his palm, admiring his handiwork, and I felt a frisson ofsomething, maybe pleasure, maybe anticipation, crawl up my skin.
“Good to hear it hasn’t died,” I managed. It came out husky, a strained whisper that would have embarrassed me if I weren’t so distracted by his touch.
Mal unfurled himself, shoulders rising and rolling back to give way to chest and a face that landed closer than I had expected. His eyes seemed unfocused, faraway, and it took me a split second to realize that it was because he was staring at my mouth.
All this time, a small part of me had wondered if I was deluding myself, that I was in fact alone in my lust. If Mal’s unshakable discipline was actually a consequence of notreallybeing attracted to me, that in the time he’d taken to get to know me he’d decided that my boorishness outweighed my beauty. But now he’drevealed himself, closed the space between us without realizing it. All I had to do was tilt my head and—
A hand smoothed up my neck, steadying me.
“I really want to kiss you,” Mal said, his breath wafting soft and warm over my lips. “Just wondering if it’s a bad idea.”
Kissing me sounded like asplendididea. Possibly the best one Mal’d had since we met.
“Why would it be a bad idea?” I asked, shocked by the whine in my voice, its pleading edge.
Mal laughed, a huff of a sound that only made his hesitation that much more frustrating.
“Because...” he said slowly. “I don’t want you to be thinking about anyone else when I do it.”
I felt a pang of guilt, as acute as an arrow to my chest. Of course Mal was perceptive. Of course he’d seen the way I’d drifted into my memories the second he brought up Ezra. Maybe that had been a test of my readiness, and I had failed.
But I didn’t want to dwell on that, not when it could cost me this moment.
I closed the space between us, pressing my lips to his unmoving ones. Mal exhaled, trembling, and, encouraged, I kissed him again, and then suddenly his arms were tight around my waist, his body crushing me into him, his mouth opening to mine.
My mind went blissfully blank. I forgot that we were standing on a carousel, that there was a family staring at us in horror, that the zoo was closing in fifteen minutes, and that we might get stuck by the lion enclosure if we didn’t hustle. All I knew was fire and fingertips, Mal pressing hard into my ribs like he wanted to leave a mark, his mouth clashing against mine like we were tryingto steal each other’s air. The hard meat of his thigh pressed between my legs, the exquisite friction we created together.Shit.The last time I’d been kissed, by Sean Peterson, a rising R&B crooner who’d asked me out after performing at one of Renata’s galas, I’d concluded that kissing was sort of sloppy and maybe overrated. But when Mal’s tongue slid against mine, the feeling that skittered down my body was the opposite of disgust. Suddenly I was frustrated by his hands, by the way they hadn’t wavered from my waist, by the fact that Mal wasn’t touching me more, kissing me harder.
