Dare To Run (The Sons of Steel Row #1)(33)

I shook my head. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about the way my brain works.”

“You don’t want to like me. You want to push me away and pretend that the desire isn’t there, because I’m not a good guy.” Lucas brushed his lips against mine. “You don’t want to want a guy like me, because what would that say about your character? But you do, anyway. And you’re ashamed of that.”

He was right about one thing. I did want him, and I didn’t want to. The rest, he had wrong. I wasn’t ashamed of wanting him. I just knew it was a horrible idea. I bit down on my lip. “I’m not ashamed of the way you make me feel.”

Something akin to shock with a dash of hope crossed his face, but he quickly shut it down. So quickly I wondered if I’d imagined the whole thing. “Bullshit.” He pushed off the wall, letting go of me and taking those magical fingers of his with him. He dragged them through his hair and checked out the alley again. “They always are.”

“They?” I pressed a hand on my stomach. Butterflies still erupted into flight inside it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He caught my hand and towed me out into the sunlight, the other hand resting on his gun, each step harsher than the last. It was clear he was agitated, though I wasn’t exactly sure why. “Next time, don’t drag me down dark alleys when I’m on the phone. That was a bullshit move.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were scared of the dark,” I shot back, beyond irritated at him and his attitude. “Next time, I’ll bring a flashlight along if it’ll help you feel better.”

“Quit the bullshit, Heidi. You know why I didn’t want to go down that alley, but you pulled some tidbit of information out of your past, threw me off, and I allowed you to—”

I held my hands up. “Hold up. Allowed me to? You have no say over what I do, or where I—”

“You’re f*cking killing me.” He covered his face. “I’m done. Done fighting you over every damn thing, when all I’m trying to do is keep your pretty little ass alive.”

“I can take care of my own ass,” I shot back, hands on my hips. “I’ve been doing it all my life, and I’m not about to stop now. And furthermore, I—”

Growling, he caught me behind my back and hauled me against his chest. I barely had time to register that he’d pulled me into his arms before his lips were on mine, moving over my mouth as if he’d been dying to kiss me for years. And I felt it, too. The need. The want. I curled my hands into his leather jacket, holding him in place.

Because if he stopped kissing me, I might die.

Lucas slanted his mouth over mine, slipping his tongue between my lips until he found what he wanted. The second his tongue touched mine, it was like sparks went off all around us, exploding into fireworks or something equally corny sounding. He let out a tortured-sounding groan and nibbled on my lower lip, and he could have had me, right then and there on Yawkey Way, in front of all the tourists swarming around us.

But then he stopped.

We both drew in a ragged breath, desperate for air. He rested his forehead on mine and pushed my hair off my face with a not-so-steady hand. “Jesus, sweetheart. What the hell are you doing to me?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted honestly. “But you’re doing it to me, too.”

He tensed. “I—we—shit.” Shaking his head slightly, he pulled back. By the time I could see his face, any hint of vulnerability to me, or anything, was gone. He looked as unaffected as ever. “Sorry that I kissed you without warning. I thought I saw a guy from Bitter Hill watching.”

I stiffened, knowing a sorry-ass excuse when I heard one. But if he wanted to pretend nothing had happened between us, then fine. He could. And so could I. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. False alarm.” He let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. Staring up at the stadium, he hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “You ready to go in now?”

I swallowed and nodded once. “Yeah.”

He offered me his arm, not taking his hands out of his pockets, and stepped closer. “Hold on tight, in case anyone’s watching. When we get inside, I’ll get us some Sam Adams, franks, and Cracker Jacks.”

I groaned. “You’re pulling out all the stops, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

I slid my hand into the crook of his arm and trudged along beside him. I couldn’t shake the sinking suspicion that this game was going to be, hands down, the longest three hours or so of my life. Especially since he’d kissed me again, and then proceeded to go on with his life as if he didn’t give a damn about anything . . . especially me.

We walked up to the portly guard in blue. Lucas exchanged a few words with him and handed him a wad of cash to buy our way inside with a pistol. Lucas had refused to go out in public without it, and I didn’t blame him. We had no way of knowing when or how they would strike. Going out without protection would be foolish.

The man nodded, stepping back to let us inside without using the wand on Lucas. The security guard and I locked gazes for a split second, and what I saw there left a sour taste in my mouth. He looked . . . ashamed of himself and his association with the Sons of Steel Row. Much like Lucas had accused me of, earlier.