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“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you…”
Then, without warning, he pulls away, and it takes me a second to breathe in enough oxygen to remember where we are. What we’re doing. Because we’re still standing on a street corner in the middle of the city, and the light has just changed. I trail after him, across the road, head swimming, cheeks on fire. Normally I hate PDA, but with Zayne, I didn’t even remember we were still in public. When he touches me, everything else fades into the background. I could be anywhere, doing anything, and all I can see, all I can feel or hear or taste or think about, is him.
He’s dangerous, I think. But even worse?
I like it.
We finally reach the building lobby, and Paul buzzes us in. To judge by the way his eyebrows rise and his gaze darts between us, to call him “surprised” would be the understatement of the year.
But Paul is nothing if not the consummate professional. So after a moment of gaping, he simply bows his head. “Zayne. Ms. Walker.”
“Evening, Paul,” Zayne says with a wink as we saunter past him, arms wrapped around each other’s waists.
“Hello,” I manage, still embarrassed, still feeling my cheeks burn white-hot. This is what it will be like if things go sour with Zayne, I remind myself. I’ll have to walk past him every day, have awkward conversations like this one.
“Lovely night out,” Paul is saying as he digs under the counter. “Ms. Walker, you had a package…”
Zayne shoots me a sideways grin. “What was that about you not ordering too much on Amazon?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll pick it up tomorrow, thanks so much, Paul.”
“Of course.” His eyes trail us all the way to the elevator, and I wonder suddenly if there are security cameras in here. If he’s going to see that we push floor 11, where Zayne must live, instead of floor 5, where I live.
“You aren’t going to get in trouble for this, are you?” I ask, suddenly thinking about it. Is there some kind of rule against this? Dating the… customers, I guess?
Zayne only laughs and hits the door close button. “The only trouble we’re getting into tonight is one another,” he says, pinning me against the corner of the elevator with one arm on the glass behind me. I lean against the wall, looking up at him. I’m struck again by the way his sharp blue eyes pierce me, the way his body angles toward me to turn me on, light me up.
One way or another, tonight marks a turning point. Either this is a very, very bad decision—something the nervous rumble in my gut tells me it very well might be—or it’s a different kind of bad decision. The kind that will give me sleepless nights thinking about it for days to come.
Either way, it’s too late now. I’ve already jumped.
The elevator doors ding and slide open. We step out onto Zayne’s floor, the 11th floor, a floor I’ve never been to in all my years living in this building so far. He crosses to his door, unlocks it, and I take a deep breath and fall straight into the deep end.
