“Well, I’m going to,” I tell him. “We can head out the back. I’ll tell my driver to loop around, and if we’re fast enough, there won’t be time for the paparazzi to figure it out.”
Something keeps shifting inside me the longer I see Chase act the way he’s been acting.
The entire time I’ve known him, he’s worn his heart on his sleeve so loudly it intimidated me. Where is any of that now?
Where did Chasego?
It’s like I have a sudden urge to reach into the darkness and pluck him back out, to find the Chase I’d gotten used to.
“Okay,” he finally says, after glancing around the gallery. “It’ll be an easier trip back. I’ll wait in the alley?”
I nod. “Give me two minutes. I’ll tell him to loop around.”
Chase gives me a salute. I call my driver and tell him to do his best to ditch any lingering paparazzi, and to take a route around to the back of the building.
Outside, I find Chase leaning against the brick exterior. His suitcase is there beside him.
A deep ache hits my chest.
I suddenly remember how I saw him that first day at the bar last year. He was such a mystery to me back then. That ghost of darkness always used to haunt his eyes, but it had seemed to fade away this year. At some point I’d come to know that Chase was a kaleidoscope of vivid color inside, just like his paintings.
But for a split second, as he’s leaning in the shadowy alleyway, I feel that same sense of mystery now.
Darkness that I can’t really reach.
All I want to do is pull him back to me.
His eyes scan over to meet mine and he stands up straighter, giving me a nod. Something grips the inside of my chest and I quickly look across the alley, making sure no one else is out here yet.
I step closer to Chase and grip his hand, pulling him to me. My other hand gently moves below his chin, tilting his head as I lean in to kiss him.
My lips burn against his.
I kiss him hard, and he opens for me easily, kissing me back with just as much need.
Thank God.
A bright flash hits the corner of my eye and when I pull away from Chase, I see that it’s the headlights of my driver’s car.
“Logan,” Chase murmurs.
“You going to tell me that I shouldn’t be kissing you?”
His green eyes seem to deepen in the light of the headlights. “Isn’t it a bad idea?”
“Maybe it’s not,” I interject. “Maybe I’m not as afraid of some things as I used to be. Maybe I’m starting to trust that you really wouldn’t crumble if the world discovered who you are.”
He casts his eyes downward as the black car pulls up right beside us. “You should really stop saying things like that.”
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”
“Because if you trust me, I’ll find some fucking way to ruin it,” he says, his eyes alighting. “If you give me an inch, I won’t just take a mile, I’ll take way more?—”
Another car’s headlights shine against the edge of the alleyway.
I nod at the SUV.
“Get in.”
