Page 52 of Reveal

Swoon.

“I missed you too.” Our gazes hold, and all I can do is shake my head ever so subtly to tell him I’m not sure what to do but I’m glad he’s here right now.

“I think we should go out.”

“Right now?” I sputter a laugh.

“We’re in the city that never sleeps for a reason.” He shrugs like a little boy. “Why not?”

I think of my aching feet and how bone tired I am, but when he smiles, I already know that I’ll go.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been on a proper date.”

“You’re crazy.” I laugh and press my lips to his.

“I know.”

He starts to head toward his car, his fingers tangled with mine, and when I don’t walk with him so that our hands stretch between us, he turns back to stare at me.

“What?” he asks.

I take him in—everything about him—and just smile as I warm from head to toe. “Nothing.”

The city may never sleep, but the streets are quieting down as we hum through the concrete jungle in silence. Ryker’s fingers are laced in mine, both our hands resting on my thigh as the gentle purr of the Maserati’s motor hums around us.

“You know, most dates start before everyone is asleep,” I tease as I look down at the bag in my lap. Curiosity has me wondering why he brought me a pair of shoes and a sweatshirt.

“Everything about us is far from normal, so why would we want to ruin it now?” He flashes me a smile before veering to the curb and parking. “Your feet good?”

“I’m beginning to be concerned that you brought me shoes. Please tell me we’re not hiking anywhere.”

“While I very much like the heels, I thought you might like to get out of them. And hiking? In Manhattan?” He rolls his eyes. “Nah. Maybe a little breaking and entering, though.”

“What?” I ask as he climbs out of the car and shuts the door with a thud, leaving me to figure out if he’s serious or not. When he opens the passenger-side door, I ask, “What do you mean, a little breaking and entering?”

He shuts the door behind me and then steps into me so that my back presses against it.

“Ryker?”

“Shh.” He puts a finger to my lips, and I can’t help but press a kiss to it. A ghost of a smile paints his lips in reaction as he takes my hands in his and then looks back up. “You and I . . . we’re far from typical. We’ve had a lot of shit happen between us from the get-go. I’ll never regret how I pushed you to get us here, but I regret many other things I’ve done. I put you, this”—he squeezes my hands—“us, in jeopardy, and I was wrong.”

“Ryk—”

“Please just let me finish.” His eyes are filled with so much honesty that it almost hurts for me to look at them. It’s the kind of honesty where you are opening yourself up to getting hurt. The kind where you’re stripped bare and completely transparent.

I don’t think a man has ever given that much of himself to me before, and I don’t know what to say other than, “Mmm-hmm.”

“I just wanted a night without distractions. One where it’s just you and me and we can pretend like . . . I don’t know. Like I haven’t fucked up a million times.”

“That would be nice.”

There’s something about him—about this moment—a man who has never come off as uncertain, but now he seems to be completely and utterly on shaky ground. My heart falls, in such a good way.

But just as quickly as I get a glimmer of his uncertainty, his expression changes, and a mischievous smile turns up his lips. “Do you trust me?”

I laugh, his playful question just that, but I don’t miss the small pang of hurt that he caused when he breached that trust at the pool house.

I shake it off, shove it down, and smile. “Should that question worry me?”