“Keep your location on,” I say. “I want to know you’re safe. You can check mine anytime you want. You’ll always know where I am. Call, text, whatever you need. I’ll be one hundred percent transparent with you. But I need to know you’re okay.” My palm settles over her stomach. “Precious cargo and all that.”
Her expression wavers, torn between irritation and something almost vulnerable. “All right, fine. I’ll leave it on.”
“That’s my good girl.”
Her eyes narrow. “Keep calling me that and see how fast I turn it off.”
My grin widens. “Look at us, we’re already learning to compromise.”
I reach for the brim of my cap and twist it backward.
“Oliver…”
“What, baby?” My tone drops, becoming low and teasing. “Is there a problem?”
She glances nervously up and down the street. “Should we really be doing this out here?”
A few people walk past, one or two slowing just enough to look our way.
“Why not?” I lean closer, brushing my mouth over hers in a light caress. “I should be able to kiss you anytime I want. And that includes right here.”
I claim her lips, catching her bottom one between my teeth until she whimpers. The sound bolts straight through me. Instead of pushing for more, I give her one last kiss before pulling back. If I don’t, I’ll be walking into the arena hard as a rock.
“That,” I murmur against her mouth, “is just a little preview of what you can expect tonight.”
Her pupils are already blown wide, her cheeks stained with a pretty flush. I fucking love when she looks like this.
Soft.
Open in a way she doesn’t even realize, like she’s letting me see the parts she usually keeps locked away. It’s not just desire that hits. It’s something heavier, something that settles deep until a steady storm builds beneath my skin.
It takes every ounce of self-control not to steal another kiss.
Or maybe five.
The quiet stretches until a gasp fractures it. The sound snaps my attention back to the present. I glance up and find a woman frozen a few yards away, her hand halfway to her mouth, eyes wide.
Blinking against the glare of the sun, I realize she’s not alone. Her friend has her phone angled toward us, lens glinting like a loaded weapon.
Rina stills as color drains from her cheeks before she swings away, trying to hide her face. The reality of our situation hits hard and fast.
My stomach twists.
Rina presses a trembling hand to my chest and slips from my grasp before I can stop her. Then she’s ducking beneath my arm, her hair catching the light as she rushes down the sidewalk.
I blow out a rough exhale and follow as the distance between us stretches wider with every step.
And just like that, the fragile world we’ve been building in private tilts toward exposure.
31
Rina
I’m still reeling from Oliver’s kiss as I rush up the sidewalk toward the arena, my pulse racing faster than my steps.
“Did you see who that was?” the woman who took our picture squeals to her friend. “Oliver Van Doren from the Railers!”
One picture.
