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Adrenaline surges through me, and the excitement of our cat-and-mouse game makes me giddy. I find myself smiling like a kid on Christmas morning as we weave through the city.
Again, I know I’m
being ridiculous, but it’s surprisingly fun! It’s most likely the intrigue and deceitfulness that adds something extra to this adventure.
I feel myself getting lost in it, and I flashback to a time when Tanner and I had this much fun.
Or to when I had this much fun.
Even if this isn’t something we or I have done regularly—or at all for that matter—it’s a feeling that I know I can easily become addicted to.
Entering Central Park, we run along the path and make our way into a hidden, more obscure spot.
Finding a shaded bench—though, really they’re all shaded at night—we sit down and try to catch our breath.
I clutch my chest, feeling more winded than I should be, and start to laugh.
Maybe I should do more cardio.
He looks back at me, his elbows on his knees, heavily breathing.
“Having fun, angel?” he smiles, and I smile back, feeling free at the moment.
“Who would’ve thought?” I say, slowly regaining my composure and breath.
“I think we’ve gotten away from them, though.” I observe our surroundings, making sure my instincts are correct.
“No, we didn’t,” he says in all seriousness. “Don’t look, but he’s to the left, behind the large, overgrown bush.”
I avoid looking directly at the photographer as he instructed, but I still notice a shadow behind the bush, moving ever so slightly.
“He has no idea that we can see him,” Tanner whispers, and a small chuckle escapes him.
He must be having fun, too.
Slowly, he leans back and turns to me, his face free of any readable expression, though there is a hint of mischief in his stare.
“Do you trust me?”
I roll my eyes—extra hard this time. I’m getting really annoyed at him asking me this.
I open my mouth to object, but he grabs my face, cradling it in his hands, and kisses me passionately.
I tense, instinctively wanting to push him away, yet my need for him goes wild, and I give into my craving.
He breaks our kiss and thumbs my lips, staring at them.
“Do you, Elsa?”
Going against everything I’ve been fighting, I rely on instinct. I nod my head yes, unable to form words, and his lips crash back into mine.
He slides closer to me and moves a hand down my curves, angling my knees in his direction.
His hand stops at the hem and then begins to gradually slide underneath my dress.
I moan into his mouth, eager for him to give me release.
Chapter 8
