Imaginary Lines (New York Leopards 3)

When we left, we cut through Central Park so I could catch the Q or N train at the southeast corner. We crossed Sheep Meadow, the wide-open green still bright as jade, though the round trees that ringed the grass had turned shades of red and gold. We walked near them, over the shed leaves that crunched beneath our feet, a patchwork carpet of an autumn we never saw at home. Everything here was crisp and sharp; the streetlamps bright, the moon clear in the blue-black sky.

“Thank you for bringing me.” I shoved my hands in my coat pockets as we walked. “I had a lot of fun.”

He turned his head to smile. “I’m glad.”

I hesitated, a little unsure of how to proceed, how to let him know that this was more than a form of gratitude. “No, but Abe—I mean it. Thank you. It meant a lot, that you brought me there. It couldn’t have been easy, since my job and yours puts us a bit at odds.”

“They’re my friends,” he said simply. “I want you to know them.”

I stopped. We’d reached the pond, and the water below us reflected back the shining lights of the city, like a gleaming fairy-tale world. It felt like we were the only people that existed. “Why did you want that?”

His hand reached out; the back of his fingers touched my cheek. “It’s important to me that everyone I care about gets along.”

I couldn’t breathe. My feet tingled and my heart beat wildly. “Abraham...”

His voice turned husky and low. “When you say my name like that, I want to...” His mouth opened but no words came out.

I couldn’t resist. “You want to what?”

His eyes were dark as night yet bright as the moon when he looked at me. How was that possible? “You want me to spell it out?”

Though my stomach danced and spun, my outer body stayed perfectly still. “Sometimes I do.”

He groaned and leaned back. The lamplights silhouetted him perfectly, light and dark. Dreams made real. When he looked back, he cupped my face in his hands. “I’ve been resisting doing this for years.”

I just stared. I was melting. I was hot clay under the summer’s sun.

He let out a soft sound of desire. The air between us simmered with need, and my whole body yearned toward him. I could barely think, couldn’t blink. Small breaths slipped in and out of me like the hopeful flutterings of a hummingbird and then his lips were on mine.

His were warm and firm, a gentle pressure against mine. My heart rate spiked. It was bliss. I had dreamed about this moment for so many years, and it was everything I had always imagined—more. I could never have dreamed of the way his lips would move, the powerful, drugging effect

of his mouth on mine. Ecstasy lay in that kiss, in the way his tongue slowly tangled with mine. Heat spiraled tightly though my body, and my back arched. I gave everything to the kiss, falling into it like a flower to sun.

His thumb stroked the sensitive back of my neck and I opened my mouth with a tiny gasp. He groaned and pulled me closer, drawing my lower lip lightly between his teeth. His hands tangled in my hair as my mouth opened under his. All thought was driven from my mind, just the desire to be closer to him. My hands ran over the smooth, hard muscles of his arms, slipping up beneath his sleeve to saver the curve of his bicep. One of his hands wandered down my neckline, playing with soft skin and trailing fire over the gentle swell of my breast, and I forgot how to breathe.

I let out a mew deep in my throat and he responded by hardening the kiss, pressing me roughly against the brick wall. Everything was pressure and sensation. The rest of the world melted away as we fell against each other. Heat pooled low in my stomach and all my weight drained away, leaving my bones turned to water and my spirit floating high. His lips were hot with desire, his breath labored, and it drew heady warmth to every part of my body. When he pulled back a breath, I couldn’t move.

He leaned his forehead forward against mine, breathing deeply. His hands cradled my neck. “Oh, God, Tamar.”

I had melted. I was a puddle of want, and incapable of forming actual words. Instead, I just leaned my forehead against his and made a soft noise of agreement.

“Come—” He visibly strained himself, pausing until he had caught his breath. “I have to go to Miami.”

Words. Maybe I could manage one or two words. “I know.”

“I wish you were coming with me.”

“Me too.”

He closed his eyes like the very claws of temptation were raking down his spine. Then he set me back a foot. “You should go home.”

I should? I should. “Okay.”

My brain didn’t start functioning until after I’d reemerged from the subway in Astoria. I lifted my head. The moon, a fine yellow sickle, glowed bright in the blackish sky. My legs were cold in their tights but my chest stayed warm beneath my sweater and coat. The chill didn’t bother me; it felt bracingly fresh, invigorating and empowering. I’d never felt so alive as I felt in this movement, with the wind sliding over but not touching me, protected by the spell of the moonlight. I felt special. I felt amazing. I felt like, for the first time in my life, I’d swum through an iridescent sea of magic and I shimmered with it still.

Chapter Twelve

They lost to Miami.