He reaches up and brushes a damp strand of hair off my cheek and my breath catches.
“Sadie,” he says softly.
The way he says my name makes my stomach twist.
“Lieutenant Kane,” I reply automatically.
He smiles slightly. “Not here.”
“No?”
“Not when you’re looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to set something on fire.”
My voice drops to match his. “Maybe I do.”
He steps closer again, crowd forgotten.
“You know this is part of the act, right?” he murmurs.
“Then act.”
His hand slides to my waist.
Not tentative.
Not questioning.
Possessive.
My fingers curl into his shoulders without permission from my brain.
The tension between us stretches thin.
“Levi,” I whisper.
“Yes.”
“You’re supposed to be in control.”
“I am.”
“That doesn’t look like control.”
He leans in slowly.
The parking lot noise crashes back into focus—the squeal of brakes, the splash of water, someone yelling about a sponge.
But all I see is his mouth. His lips hover inches from mine. The heat between us shifts. Deepens.
“You want me to kiss you?” he asks quietly.
The honesty makes my knees weak.
“We’re performing,” I manage.
