Pushing up on my toes and brushing my lips against his is as natural as breathing. There’s no thought, no what-ifs.I wouldn’t have been able to stop it if I’d wanted to, and I didn’t. Our eyes never close, it’s just a dry graze of lips. I’m not even sure I could call it a kiss, but that’s what it is to me. His mouth is pillowy soft and unmoving, but his fingers tighten around my neck possessively.
I slowly lower back to my heels, but I keep my eyes trained on him. “You should have gotten rid of me while you had the chance.”
The color in Winger’s eyes shifts to a deeper blue, and a half smile curls his lips, creating a dimple on his cheek. Well, crap, how does that make him even more handsome?
“I was thinking the same thing, Max, but I didn’t give you much of a chance to get away from me, did I?” He’s not smug. If anything, the smile almost looks sad upon further examination.
“No, but I was watching you to see if I should add you to my kill list. It would be pretty hypocritical of me if I pretended my motives were pure when I followed you home. I wouldn’t have even given myself a second chance. I would have put a bullet in my head at the first chance and paid for the sin much later. You didn’t, you let me live and made sure I was okay, and I broke your nose for the trouble.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this. It’s as if I’m trying to push him away, but deep down, I want him to forgive me so I can forgive him too.
“I’m still not going to be able to let you go, Max. I tried to walk away, but I can’t, and that’s not going to change after I kill everyone on that list.” The smile is gone from his lips and eyes as he searches my face.
My initial response is to bristle, to tell him that I don’t need anyone to take care of me, but fuck, I’m tired of being alone, tired of my only purpose in life being to end others, and tired of seeing only the worst in people. The truth is, though, I wouldn’t survive being locked up in that apartment, even if it meant I got him. A cell is a cell, even if it’s gilded.
I take a step back, dislodging his hand from my neck. “You would lock me in a pretty box and pretend it was for my safety, even after the threat is gone?”
“Not unless you made me.”
“What does that mean?”
“If you tried to get away from me, leave me, then I would come for you.” His placid features suggest he’s calm and confident in his ability to do what he promised, and something in my cracked heart shivers to life, testing the frayed edges and finding that it is mendable.
“That’s a two-way street, Winger,” I warn just as gravely, but I wouldn’t drag him back fighting. “You know what happens to the men who hurt me.”
He takes one step forward, so we’re only inches apart again. I expect him to laugh, to tell me I’m nuts and deliver his own warning about how he could kill me at any moment and never even have to dirty his hands, but he doesn’t. Instead, he cradles my cheeks and vows, “I would die before I let anyone else ever hurt you again.”
My knees threaten to buckle. Did I just swoon? I didn’t even know I was capable of it. Hell, I didn’t know it was a real thing that happened and not an over-the-top description of mushy shit they talk about in books. This feels surreal.
Winger’s eyes lower to my lips, and I think he’s going to kiss me, but he just stands there with the patience of a saint, tempting me.
“I’m going to kiss you again. I’ll probably be as graceful as a seventh grader with new brac—”
“Shut up,” he whispers against my lips. The warm brush of air across my mouth does something to my stomach. It’s hard to describe, but it feels like I’m holding my breath and sighing at the same time. Are these butterflies?
Instead of thinking, I give into the temptation and kiss him again. This time, his mouth moves against mine as he captures my bottom lip between his, and I mimic the movement. My eyes slide shut as he trails his fingers down my jaw until he’s holding my neck, allowing me to have free movement of my head so I could pull away at any second.
It gives me the confidence to use a little more pressure and nibble his lip in return. I don’t know how long we would have stayed like that, standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk while tasting each other, but when a little voice says, “Momma, they say bye for a long time,” I pull back, my lips damp and heart fluttering.
Winger’s chest rises and falls rapidly, considering how slow the kiss was—proof he’s just as affected as I am. “We haven’t been very inconspicuous,” I admit. Normally, I work hard to blend in, but he was more important in that moment. Hell, he’s been more important than just about everything from the first time I laid eyes on him, I just didn’t know what it meant.
“We’re just taking a walk,” he says, reminding me we aren’t here to get rid of Ian, despite how badly I would like to. I know better than to rush a job, because rushing makes you sloppy, and being sloppy gets you caught, and I sure as shit don’t want to get caught.
“Where to?” He steps in line with me, and we walk side by side, our fingers and arms brushing every few steps. The ache in my cheeks warns me I’m smiling too wide, so I work to tamp it down in an attempt not to look like a fool.
“I need to put a tracker on his car. I want to know where he spends his time, and there are too many eyes in the city.” He hauls open the heavy gold and glass door to the main floor of the Polaris building.
“Smart,” I reply approvingly. The last time I was here, I avoided the residential building attached to the garage, which is how I knew Eddy was visiting someone here, but I couldn’t find who the assigned spot was registered to, only that it belonged to someone who lived in the building.
Soft music and a small seating area greet us. Two oversized chairs with a low table between them are nestled in a circular alcove right in the center, with a short set of marble stairs on either side leading up to the next level. Winger leads me to the right set of stairs, where there are signs for shops and restaurants.
I touch the side of my face, missing the ball cap and glasses I would usually don while doing this kind of recon. “I know where Edward parked,” I mumble under my breath, questioning why we entered the building at all.
“I know.”
“Oh yeah, my notes.” There’s a little bitterness in my tone, but he either doesn’t notice or chooses not to acknowledge it.
“Are you hungry?” He ushers me to a small café with an A-frame chalkboard menu and wrought iron furniture.
“Sure, I guess.” I lower myself into the hard chair that somehow looks dainty but feels solid as hell.
