Page 102 of The Devil of Downtown

Soft.

A careful, sensual slide of his lips over mine, full of feeling instead of hunger.

His thumb strokes along my jaw, tilting my chin to deepen it, but even then, he keeps the pace so gentle I feel it from the tips of my toes all the way up my spine.

When he finally pulls back, he rubs his thumb along my cheek like he’s reluctant to let go.

“You good?” he murmurs.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I nod, although it still seems like the ground is tilting beneath me.

“Hungry?”

“Starving, actually,” I smile.

“Good.” He steals one last quick brush of his lips against mine before leaning back and reaching for his pack.

We eat perched on the boulder with an easy closeness that feels like it’s always been there. The sun edges lower, gilding the mountains.

Eventually, Dane stands, offering his hand again.

“We should head down before it gets dark.”

I take his hand, letting him pull me to my feet, my heart still beating a little too fast from a kiss I’m pretty sure I’ll remember forever.

The descent starts easily, cool air sliding down the mountainside, the trail dipping through patches of sunlight and shadow. Dane walks close enough that his arm brushes mine every so often, like he’s tracking me without making a show of it.

I’m watching the mountains through the trees when my foot lands on a patch of loose gravel, and before I can correct it, my ankle rolls with a sharp pinch that shoots up my leg. I catch myself easily enough and stand still for a moment, testing the weight.

“Damn,” I mutter, flexing my foot.

“Everything okay there?” Dane drops his gaze to my ankle, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“It’s okay. Just a little twist. I just want to make sure I’m good for rehearsal tomorrow.”

He crouches slightly, presenting his back to me. “Get on.”

I squint at the broad line of his back. “Dane, I’m fine.”

“Humor me,” he says, flashing the smile that’s impossible to resist. “Plus, you don’t want to mess up rehearsals because of me.”

I roll my eyes skyward, but my smile’s already breaking through as I place my hands on his shoulders. “Fine. But only because you asked nicely.”

He rises smoothly once I’m settled, his grip firm beneath my thighs, carrying me like my weight is nothing, and as we continue down the trail, I find myself acutely aware of the warmth of his back, the subtle shift of muscle under his shirt, and the way my cheek keeps brushing the slope of his neck.

And God help me—a girl could get used to this.

The trees thin as we approach the clearing around his house, the late sunlight dipping everything in orange, and I’m still absorbing the strange sweetness of the moment when a figure comes into view near the driveway.

A woman stands there, keys dangling loosely from her fingers, a large bag over her arm. And when her eyes land on Dane carrying me on his back, my arms looped around him, both of us a little flushed from the hike, she freezes. She looks so much like Dane it’s startling. Dark hair, tan skin, sharp features, that unmistakable Black confidence etched into every line of her expression.

Then, slowly, a wide, delighted smile curves across her face.

Dane lets out a quiet sigh through his nose. “Charlotte. I thought you were going back to Boston today.”

She plants a hand on her hip. “Wow. And here I was expecting a hello.”

His hands tighten just slightly under my legs, like he suddenly remembers I’m still on him.