Stifling a sigh, I turned away again to look out at Lake Michigan and the boats that were now nothing more than tiny points of lights in the distance. “You must not have been watching too closely,” I said.
“On the contrary,” he said, his voice low and even and so intense it seemed to erase all my protests even before I could voice them. “I paid a great deal of attention. I always do when something matters to me.”
“Oh.” My voice felt small and breathy.
From his position beside me, he hooked a finger under my chin and turned my head to meet his eyes. Heat from the contact shot through me, and I half-wondered if I’d see a burn mark there the next time I looked in the mirror.
He moved his hand away, and I wanted to cry out in protest. “Trust me on this, Lina. I know all about control.”
I swallowed. I wasn’t entirely sure I knew what we were talking about. And I sure as hell didn’t know why he called me by my old nickname, but to my surprise, I found myself liking it. I liked even more the way that he was looking at me. I think I could have stood there forever, the city and lake below and the night sky above and this enigmatic man only inches from me.
His lips began to move, and I thought that he had a beautiful mouth. “It’s not a weakness to want to let go,” he said. “To want the thrill of taking a risk. The pleasure of feeling the rush.”
I blinked. “How did you—”
“Shhhh.” His smile was slow and easy, revealing a rarely seen dimple in his cheek. “You need it. You’ve been pent up all night, going crazy. Locked inside your grief. Go ahead, now. Close your eyes and turn around.”
“But, I—”
That finger rose and pressed gently to my lips. “Don’t argue. Just do.”
Unquestioning obedience isn’t usually my modus operandi, but to my surprise, I complied. I closed my eyes, letting the dark take me, and then I shifted, so that I was facing the glass again. If I had opened my eyes, I would have seen the night sky spread wide in front of me. Instead I saw only Evan, larger than life inside my head.
“That’s a good girl.”
I’d worn my shoulder-length hair loose, and I held my breath as he gently pushed the thick waves aside, then pressed his hand to the back of my neck. I shivered from the contact, then cringed with embarrassment because I know he must have noticed. His thumb moved ever so slightly, lightly stroking my skin. I had no way of telling if he was doing it on purpose or if it was simply a reflex. Either way, it was driving me crazy, and I bit my lower lip, thankful that he was behind me and couldn’t see that additional break in my composure.
When he spoke again, his voice was husky. “Now put your hands on the glass.”
I was confused and nervous. But, damn me, I was also turned on, and I hoped he couldn’t tell that my nipples had peaked beneath my bra, and that he couldn’t see the flush of my skin in the dark.
Before I could do what he asked, he moved behind me, taking my hands in his and guiding them to the pane. The connection was shocking, powerful, and a raging heat stormed through me as I let myself go, reveling in the incredible sensation of submitting to this man.
“Do you feel it, Angie? The pressure of the glass? It’s pushing back on you. It’s holding you up. It’s keeping you here, safe beside me.”
His words barely registered. All I knew was the way his voice caressed me, like a trail of kisses down my body. All I could feel was the pressure of his hands over mine, and the whisper of his breath on my skin, as tantalizing as a ray of summer sun.
“What if the glass were to tumble away?” His voice was soft and gentle, as if that was the most natural thing in the world to think about. “You wouldn’t fall, Angie. You’d soar.”
I squeezed my eyes tighter. He’d already captured the attention of my body, but now he’d captured my imagination, too.
“Maybe you wouldn’t purposefully push the glass out of the way, but if that barrier disappeared, you’d experience it to the fullest. You’d spread your arms, you’d embrace the tumble. You’d breathe in the air and feel the wind rushing around you, gathering you up. Lifting you up. Because that’s what you were thinking about, wasn’t it? Not jumping. Not falling—”
I drew in a breath, gasping as I leaned back against him, my ass against his crotch. He was hard, and so help me, I was wet.
“You want to fly, Angie,” he whispered, and then brushed his lips over the top of my ear. I trembled, and oh, dear god, if he touched me again I knew I’d come, my body exploding out to greet the stars.
And all I could do was stand there, the heat of our connection burning through me, and silently beg for him to never leave. For this moment to never end.
He moved his hands to my shoulders, then eased them around to place his palms against my ribs. His thumbs rested on my back and his fingertips brushed the swell of my breasts. I bit my lower lip, determined not to cry out, not to move. Not to do anything that might make him stop. That might end this wondrous fantasy.
His hands eased lower, encircling my waist. I’m not particularly small, but I felt petite and fragile right then, because I knew in that moment that he had the power to break me. To utterly and sweetly destroy me.
“Angie,” he said and began to turn me in his arms. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment. But before I could shift—before I could even absorb the possibility that he was going to kiss me—the moment shattered, torn apart by the high-pitched chirp of my cell phone.
He drew his hands away, and as he did, I heard another sound. A whimper.
I’m pretty sure it came from me.
I opened my eyes just in time to see Evan’s face shift into a stony, unreadable expression. I didn’t know what it looked like before, but I imagined there’d been lust in his eyes.
I felt something tight squeeze at my heart, because we’d just lost this moment. And I knew damn well that we could never, ever get it back.
“You should answer it,” he said.
“What?”
He glanced down to the tiny purse that I’d decided to carry tonight only because I had no pocket for my phone.
“Oh.” I’d already forgotten. “It’s a text.” I fumbled to retrieve it, then glanced at the display.
“Kevin?”
“Flynn,” I said quickly, not wanting to bring Kevin anywhere near this conversation. “Remember? The boy who lived down the street from Uncle Jahn in Kenilworth.”
“Probably not so much a boy anymore,” Evan said, in a tone that made the gooey feminine side of me shimmy with joy.
“No,” I said casually. “Not so much.”
I kept my focus on his face, and for a moment I thought that he was going to reach out for me. That he was going to pull me to him and press his lips to mine, and send us both soaring past that damn glass partition.
But the moment passed, and he turned away to look out over the darkened lake.
For a moment, we stood in silence. Then he spoke, low and steady. “I think about jumping, too.”
“Suicidal?” I quipped.
“No.” He turned back to me, and what I saw on his face wasn’t heat or lust but bald determination. “Arrogant.”
My brows puckered with confusion.
“I’m arrogant enough to think I can control my own fall,” he clarified.
“But you can’t,” I said, thinking of my sister. Of my life. Of my uncle. “Nobody can.”
His grin was wide, achingly sexy, and desperately sad. He reached out, then lightly stroked my cheek. “Watch me.”
I did, but only in the sense that I watched him leave. I stayed there, alone on the patio. Just me and my confusion and mortification. Not to mention two dozen people I barely knew. All of us on this Chicago rooftop, hurtling through space and time and the universe.
I stared after him, not moving. Not really even thinking. Behind me, the fireworks over the Navy Pier began to explode and suddenly the night sky was alive with color. I barely noticed. The only color I saw was Evan, his hue standing out against the backdrop of gray that had consumed me.
It took a full five minutes before I realized that I was still holding my phone.
I pulled up the message and, despite my confusion, I smiled.
Just landed. You okay?
I typed my answer—
Surviving, I think
—then hesitated. I wanted to edit it before hitting send. To tell Flynn about what just happened with Evan, whom he’s heard about ad nauseam since we were both sixteen. About how I was seeing Jahn’s ghost around every corner. About how much I hated death and funerals and I wished that I were a runner because then I could shove my feet into some Nikes and just go.
I didn’t type any of that, though. Instead, I just hit send.
I’ll be there in 10.
I couldn’t help but smile. He really did know me well.
It’s okay. People leaving.
Don’t want you alone.
Kevin’s taking me home w/ him.
There was a pause before the next text came through, and I understood why. I’ve spent far too many nights boring him with my rants about how Kevin is empirically perfect and I’m an idiot to even contemplate blowing him off.
Is that what you want?
It wasn’t, of course. What I wanted was Evan. His voice in my ear. His hand on my back. I wanted to return to that place in the sky, and I was suddenly terribly afraid that he was the only one who could get me there.
Violently, I jabbed my finger on the keypad. I really wasn’t going to do self-analysis by text. Just not happening.
Gotta go. TTYL
I set the phone on Do Not Disturb and shoved it back in my purse. If he texted me back, I didn’t want to know about it. I looked up in time to see that Kevin had entered the patio and was looking right at me, his expression quizzical. I wasn’t terribly surprised. I was feeling ripped to pieces, not to mention confused and unsatisfied and more than a little bit guilty about my pleasant, odd, and totally unexpected encounter with Evan. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the chance to adjust my expression before he zeroed in on me.
“You’re looking tired,” he said, smiling gently as he took my hand. “Let’s go.”
“Tired being a euphemism for destroyed?”
“What can I say? I minored in English.”
My laugh was completely genuine. “You’re a good man, Agent Warner,” I said. “You deserve more than a wreck like me.”
“Maybe I like a fixer-upper.” He lifted our joined hands and kissed my fingertips. “You need distance. Come on. I already told Peterson I was whisking you away,” he added, referring to Jahn’s ever-present but usually invisible butler. “He’ll make sure the rest of the guests get on their way.”
I let him tug me toward the door. The guests were already leaving, and a few pulled me aside, giving me a hug and an encouraging word. Kat hurried over as we neared the entrance hall. “You’re heading out?”
“She needs to get away for the night,” Kevin said. “I’m taking her to my place.”
“Great,” Kat said, her voice bland, but a question in her eyes. I wished I could answer it. Cliché, maybe, but I could have used a night of nail polish and ice cream and talking about men.
“It’s gonna get easier,” Kat said, then pulled me into a tight hug.
“So they tell me.”
“Tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll meet for cupcakes, okay?”
“Definitely,” I said, because who turns down cupcakes or sympathy from her best friend?
I didn’t see Tyler or Cole, and since I agreed that I needed to get out of there sooner rather than later, I continued willingly toward the door, figuring I’d see them in a couple of days at the attorney’s office. I still had the trauma of the will to look forward to. Maybe after that, I could start to heal.
I heard Evan before I saw him, that low, whiskey-smooth voice unmistakable. I was overcome by the desire to take a detour. Unfortunately, he was right by the front door.
“I understand,” he was saying. “But this isn’t the place.”
“It’s just without the damn liquor license, I can’t get enough traffic to turn the profit we need, and I can’t get the license without—”
I could see him now, and I watched as he cut off a stout, weasel-faced man with a hand to the shoulder. “Now’s not the time. But I promise you I’ll take care of it.”
“Seriously?”
I saw a muscle twitch in Evan’s cheek. “Are you doubting my word?”
The weasel looked a little bit terrified that he might have offended Evan. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean that you—”
“It’s not a problem.” Evan’s voice was a blanket of calm against the hyper backpedaling. “I’ve got a few favors I can call in. We’ll get it worked out.”
The weasel nodded. “I’ll owe you. I know I’ll owe you.”
I saw the moment Evan noticed me. Just the slightest shift of his gaze from the weasel to my face, and then back again. “Tomorrow,” Evan said. “We’ll talk.” Then he turned to me, effectively dismissing the weasel, who slipped through the door, shoulders sagging in what looked like relief.
“Angie.” His voice stroked me like a strong, firm hand, and I felt my body heat in memory of his touch. His eyes flicked to Kevin. “Agent Warner.”
“Nice speech,” Kevin said. He held his hand out to shake. “You’re an articulate man.”
“It pays to be able to persuade people in my line of work,” Evan said.
For a moment, I thought he was going to ignore Kevin’s outstretched hand. Then he reached out—and as he did, I saw the raw, red knuckles. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed them before, and I had to blame my lack of attention on the dark. And on the fact that I’d been somewhat preoccupied by his general proximity, his touch, and my raging hormones.
“Evan! What happened?”
“Street fighting, Mr. Black?” Kevin said, in what must have been a joke but just sounded rude to me.
“If I was,” Evan said smoothly, “the other guy must be pretty fucked up.” He held the hand up for inspection. “I’d say I got off easy.”
For a moment, the two just stared at each other, a sticky, uncomfortable tension filling the space between them. Forget the War of the Roses, that historic battle was nothing compared to this War of the Alphas, and I had a sick feeling that I was the root of the trouble.