The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice gruff, watching me.

“I don’t know. I just…miss you.” I gave my head a shake. “I’ve said that before. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now. Missing you.”

He nodded. So close to me, I could feel the warmth of his skin.

“So I’ve been thinking,” I began, marveling at how steady my voice sounded. “About what we said that night Bibi went into the hospital. You said it’s safer to walk away.”

“That’s right. It’s better for you, Shiloh. Trust me.”

“I’ve thought a lot of things were better for me and they weren’t.” I tilted my head up to him; he was so tall, I barely brushed his chin. “There’s something happening here, right? An attraction?”

“Yeah,” he said roughly.

“But neither of us do relationships, right? So let’s…not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s just keep it casual.”

“Casual.”

I glanced down at my hand that looked small and delicate on the muscles of his forearm, dark with ink. “I don’t trust myself to be in charge of someone else’s heart. I’m not doing a bang-up job with my own, to be honest. So let’s skip the part where we get tangled up in feelings and just…see what happens.”

He swallowed, and I could see him thinking over my indecent proposal. His gray eyes were lidded, his body looming over me, ready to give in.

Then he shook his head. “I don’t want you to get pulled into my shit, Shiloh. Not now. Not ever.”

My stomach dropped. I’d gotten it all wrong. He’d meant what he said about walking away, and here I was, bartering for a little piece of him. Any scrap he’d toss me. Heat rushed through me—the burn of humiliation.

I snatched my hand away.

“Never mind. Forget I said anything. I gotta go…”

Ronan’s hand closed on my arm, gently but firmly. “Shiloh.” The intensity and gravity of his voice pulled me back to him almost as much as his grip. “I want what you want.” His hand came up, brushing fingertips over my face, tracing my lips. Then he shook his head like a man coming out of a trance. “But it’s not safe. If Grimaldi knows it was me who tagged his car, shit could get ugly.”

“For who? Me?”

“Maybe.”

“Did he see you?”

“Not sure. But I’m not taking any chances.”

The protective undertone to his words was unmistakable, sending shivers over my skin. I smiled weakly. “You’re like a superhero, worried that his enemies will hurt him by getting to those he cares about.”

“Something like that.”

“I doubt that coward is going to try anything. But it’s fine. I don’t do mushy romance or hand-holding or PDA. We don’t have to show off in school if that makes you feel better.”

“The Shack,” he said, still watching me with heated eyes. “Come to the Shack. It’s private.”

“That offer still stands?”

He nodded and slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, pressed the back of my hand to his mouth and inhaled. “Let’s go today. Or…right this fucking minute.”

God, I’m a dead woman.

His lips were brushing my skin and I struggled to keep from falling into those damn eyes of his that were swallowing me whole. “Can’t,” I said faintly. “Have a date with the library. This afternoon?”