Page 105 of This is a Kissing Book

He says, “I was always an Indie fan.”

“A casual scoundrel, a real maverick.”

“He always got the girl.” Linc’s lips quirk.

“I’ll admit, though, that I was also a big fan of Benjamin Gates from National Treasure. He was smart, clever.”

“Is that so?”

I tip my head back to get the full view of this massive man. He shaved after showering and from behind his glasses, his eyes sparkle. “As for Indie, I thought he ended up rather lonely in the end.”

Linc considers this and with a tip of his head, he says, “Maybe because he wasn’t looking for the right treasure.” He nuzzles my neck and whispers, “Jules.”

I close my eyes and enjoy the trail he kisses along my collarbone like I’m a treasure—a jewel.

His lips brush the hollow of my throat, feather-light and tender. My breath hitches and tingles bubble through me. He pauses there, breathing me in, before pressing one more gentle kiss to the curve where my neck meets my shoulder.

Everything inside me melts, goes liquid and soft.

But then he says, “You’re shaking.”

I’m unraveling.

“It’s been a while since … well, never like … I’m⁠—”

He nods, assuring me I don’t need to explain. This is new. We’re on uncertain ground, thankfully, it’s stabler than in the tunnels, which brings to mind our flight to safety.

“Do you think they’ll find us here?” I ask, voicing the worry that’s been gnawing at me since we surfaced.

He gathers me closer in his arms as if to say anyone who wants to get to me will have to go through him. I certainly don’t want him to take unnecessary risks on my behalf, but I feel secure here, together with Linc.

He says, “I signed us into the hotel using a pseudonym.”

“Seriously?” I shift uneasily. “Should I be concerned about how good you are at subterfuge?”

His mouth quirks upward. “Let’s say I have resources.”

Right. Resources. When I’m in his embrace, I forget exactly how wealthy Linc is, how different our worlds are. It’s just us. The notion makes me feel small and insignificant, reminding me of when Iva Katz, his ex, with her exclusivity halo, looked me up and down with disregard, dismissing me.

“We need to be more careful,” I say to distract myself, whether from the hopelessness I feel about our future or the situation at hand, I’m not sure.

“Yeah.”

“That was so sketchy down there. We could have been killed or trapped underground indefinitely.”

He squeezes me tight and muffled by my hair, he says, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

We order delivery—chicken sandwiches from a nearby place Linc loved when he was a student. The local news airs on the television screen. He reaches for the remote, probably to change the channel, but freezes when the reporter’s voice catches our attention.

“… two men were rescued this evening from what appears to be a sinkhole. The men, who have not been identified, were excavated by emergency crews after a section of historical foundation collapsed beneath a commercial building.”

Linc and I exchange a look and flop onto the sofa.

The reporter continues, “Allegedly, they were with a pest control company, inspecting the sublevels, when a section gave way. The structure remains sound and the victims are being treated for general injuries at a local hospital.”

“Those were the guys chasing us,” I whisper.

“Check Point Secure must’ve thought they were us.”