I don’t know what to say to that, so I opt for nothing, running my thumb over her hand instead. Sometimes, silence can be more eloquent than any words.
“Love can be cruel,” I whisper after a while.
I hold her tighter.
Her blond hair shimmers under the night lights, somehow brighter when it’s laced with shadows. Her eyes dance when she looks at me and says, “It can. But it doesn’t always have to be so painful.”
I snort loudly, spoiling the moment.
“You really believe that?” I don’t mean to tell her she’s naive, but that’s probably how it sounds.
Regina’s face flashes in my mind, her eyes wide with horror and still trying to lie. Even when I caught her butt-ass naked, draped over another man’s dick.
I’ll never believe love is anything magical.
It’s an invisible fucking serial killer of hearts and dreams, but I hold my comments because I can’t crush this girl. If she’s still clinging to a shred of something better—holding out for her prince—I can’t be the asshole to cut the last thread.
She bites her full bottom lip. For a moment, all I want to do is the same.
My eyes linger on her lips and I think she notices.
Because she tilts her chin back, angles her head, and leans in closer.
Oh, fuck.
Is she asking for—
Yeah. She is.
And I hear a voice grabbing my brain like a tennis ball, squeezing, and growling, Burns, you better fucking not. Run.
My body doesn’t want to listen, straining against my thoughts like a wild horse.
I move closer, cradling her in my arms, peering down like she’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Her scent isn’t doing me any favors. Cinnamon and peppermint waft up my nose, mingled with something uniquely Dakota.
Delicious.
Dangerously fucking delicious.
Her eyes flutter shut with a soft rasp of her chest. She’s tense and still so soft, her breasts heaving—yes, heaving, and I always thought that sounded ridiculous before.
Not now.
Dakota Poe is asking for my lips, my tongue, my teeth and she’s utterly serious.
We’re almost touching already, barely inches apart.
All I have to do is shut that second mouth in my brain, the voice of sanity, and seal the deal.
All I need to make that happen is to kiss with a passion I’ve never had.
I close my eyes, still fighting internally, and move my mouth to hers.
Our lips barely brush before I jerk back.
She’s fucking electric, like a static spark in my soul.
Have you ever kissed anyone who’s too fucking good to be kissed? You come in hot, expecting perfect poise and control and a tongue primed for its best moves, only to get one second in.
One measly second before you’re frozen in disbelief, thrown back like you’ve been hit by the very best kind of lightning.
I know she feels it too, her eyes open now, big and green and glistening. Her mouth is parted with awe, her cheeks flushed, red as apples and begging me to take another taste.
Deeper. Longer. Sweeter.
I’m about to do that, ignoring the hard-on aching to bust out of my pants, when a noise like the world ending stops me.
Some fucking donkey who needs a muffler whips into the tiny parking lot, blasting noise, and then peels out again with a grating screech.
Dakota jumps back, blinking.
Just like that, the moment is gone.
Probably for the best, though I don’t fucking believe it.
I can’t get mixed up with a woman who works for me. Even a beautiful one who tells me off when it’s warranted and can handle anything I throw at her.
“Sorry. Umm—I should—I should get—” Her mouth won’t work, still hanging off her face and looking so delectable.
“It’s late. We should go,” I finish for her.
“Right.”
“We’ll go to the office and pick up your bike, then I’ll have Louis drop you off.”
“Why? I always take my bike.”
“It’s way too late for you to be biking home, and you know I won’t have it,” I say with a shit-eating grin.
I know there’s something different in her when she doesn’t fight back.
I help her back to the car and do exactly what I said.
I should be happy for the interruption caused by the clunker with Satan at the wheel.
We only half kissed.
Nothing fucking happened.
I let her go quietly, watching as she locks up her bike and disappears inside her place, with my life no more complicated than when we arrived.
Only, I’m not relieved at all.
The entire ride home has me clasping my knee, staring anxiously into the night. I need a stiff drink to take this tremor out of my hand, but I know that won’t cut it.
I needed her full taste, dammit. Not the hurried sample still lodged in my core, her lips glued to my brain with the same ruthless question.
Why didn’t I kiss Nevermore like a man when I had the chance?
13
If Bird Or Devil (Dakota)
“Can you look at these before I have to show them to Anna?” Cheryl asks, handing me a bulging folder.