I raised an eyebrow. "If I didn't know you better, reaper, I'd think not only was that a double entendre, but you were flirting."
"Reapers don't flirt." He stepped close and wrapped an arm around my waist. His body was warm against mine, his touch tender and yet oddly possessive. "It is merely a truth I cannot deny."
I rose up on my toes and said, my lips so close to his that I could almost taste him, "So you're saying that you want me?"
"From the very first moment that I saw you," he murmured; then his lips met mine and he kissed me fiercely and very thoroughly as his energy rose and swept us through the gray fields to the chill of Ballarat. Not that I actually felt, in any way, cold. Such a thing wasn't possible when Azriel's arms were still around me.
"God, get a room, will you?" a woman muttered as she walked past us.
I laughed softly and stepped back. His hand slipped from my waist, and my hormones mourned the loss. "Where are we?"
"At the Aboriginal Culture Centre."
I turned around. The building was modern in style, all concrete and glass, and painted in colors that reminded me of the outback—reds, gold, pinks, and browns. I frowned. "This really doesn't look like a museum."
"That is something we cannot be sure of until we go inside."
"True." I half shrugged and headed for the entrance, paying the fee for both of us but refusing the guided tour. It was interesting to look around, but there was nothing in this place for us.
"Well," I said, once we were back out. "That was a waste of time."
"At least there is one less option on the list." He pressed warm fingers against my spine, gently guiding me away from the cultural center. "What do you wish to do now?"
I pulled out my phone and glanced at my list. "Let's try the Aviation Museum. That's probably the next least likely."
"Done." He wrapped his arms around my waist again and took us there. The museum, it turned out, was a big tin shed.
"It is also not open," he commented