Or more terrified.
“Breathe,” Nate says, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath. “Look at me. Just look at me.”
I tear my gaze from the dizzying drop and find his eyes—steady, calm, anchoring me in the chaos. He’s not scared at all. Of course he isn’t. This is what he was literally made for.
“I’m going to land,” he says. “Okay?”
I nod because I don’t trust my voice.
We descend slowly, the city rising to meet us, and I watch as a rooftop materializes beneath my dangling feet, some kind of observation deck, empty and silent, with a glass barrier around the edges and a view that must cost a fortune.
My heels touch concrete, and my legs buckle immediately.
Nate catches me before I can fall, his hands warm on my waist. “Easy. Take a second.”
“A second?” I squeak. “Right. Just need a second after beingkidnapped into the skywithout warning?—”
“You loved it.”
“I did not—” I break off because he’s grinning at me, that genuine smile that transforms his whole face, and I realize I’m grinning too. Laughing, actually—breathless, hysterical laughter that sounds unhinged even to my own ears.
“Okay,” I admit. “Maybe a little.”
His hands linger on my waist, fingers pressing in firmly, and the laughter dies in my throat. The way he’s looking at me…something has changed. The polished superhero from the gala is gone, and in his place is something rawer.
Hungrier.
Messier.
And therefore, more dangerous.
I step back, breaking contact, and I immediately regret it as the vertigo hits. The rooftop tilts beneath my feet, and I have to grab the glass barrier to steady myself. We’re so high, so impossibly, terrifyingly high. The cars on the streets below look like toys, the people like ants, and my stomach lurches as my brain tries to reconcile what my eyes are seeing.
“Breathe,” Nate says from behind me. Close. Too close.
I move along the barrier, putting distance between us, focusing on the view instead of the man. The Empire State Building rises to my left, its spire lit up in red and gold. Beyond it, the city sprawls in every direction—Midtown’s forest of glass towers, the dark rectangle of Central Park, the water a glittering border. It’s both beautiful and overwhelming, the kind of view that makes you feel small and infinite at the same time. I try and focus on that feeling, focus on anything but him.
But I hear his footsteps behind me. For the first time, they remind me of a lethal predator stalking its prey, without knowing the prey is poisonous.
I keep walking, trailing my fingers along the glass barrier, and he keeps pace. Not crowding me, but not giving me space either. A constant presence at my back, radiating heat and intent, the kind of intent that makes me panic.
“The Chrysler Building,” I say rather stupidly, pointing at the art deco spire because I need to say something, anything, to fill the charged silence. “I’ve always wanted to see it up close.”
“I’ll take you sometime.”
His voice is low, intimate, like a promise of things to come. I can’t help but shiver, though I pass it off as the wind. It’s cold as hell up here, even though my body feels like it’s on fire.
I round the corner of the observation deck. He follows. I can feel his eyes on me, snaking over my body as if I’m naked, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I’m suddenly, acutely aware I’m not even wearing underwear. I am so exposed up here, alone with him, a thousand feet above the world.
Bayo must be losing his bloody mind.
I stop at the north-facing edge, gripping the railing, and finally turn to face him.
He’s closer than I expected, close enough that I can see the way his pupils have blown wide, swallowing the blue. Close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his chest rises and falls with carefully controlled breaths. He looks like a man on the edge of something, like he’s holding himself back by the thinnest of threads.
I hate that part of me wants that thread to snap, even though I know what it would mean for both of us.
“You’re following me,” I say.
