The Moth and the Flame (When Rivals Play #2) - B.B. Reid Page 0,35

there contemplating what to do. I could go back to her room and spend the night on her floor as I’d planned, or I could stay the fuck away from Lou until I got my mind right.

Closing my eyes, I saw fantasy Lou lying spent with a lazy smile on her lips and staring at me from under lowered lids. She already wanted more, and I was powerless to resist. At that moment, I knew what I needed to do.

I got the fuck out of there.

I WATCHED THROUGH THE STORE’S glass window at Grand Central Terminal as my mark searched through his wad of cash for a bill small enough to pay for his items. The moment he left the mini convenience store, I trailed him, but his long strides were making it difficult to follow without drawing attention from the officers and their large dogs. I was ready to give up and find a mark that wasn’t in such a hurry when he finally slowed and stopped to check a directory.

Closing in, I appeared casual as I stood next to him and slipped my hand in his pocket while pretending to check the directory. He shot me a pleasant smile, which I returned as a garbled voice spoke over the station intercom.

I was already backing away when I bumped into a hard wall and heard “So it’s picking pockets you prefer to a good home.”

Even though I hadn’t seen or heard from Wren in the month since he taunted me with his naked body and disappeared out my bedroom window, I didn’t need to turn to see who spoke those words. Unfortunately, the man whose wallet I’d stolen had also heard him.

Wren’s hand circled my nape before I could get out of there while his other dug inside my waistband to grab the wallet I’d hidden under my sweatshirt. The mark’s skin turned a deep red when Wren returned it to him.

“Why you little—”

“Walk away,” Wren cut in, making it clear to the guy whose side he was on.

I flashed the irate man a cheeky grin but refrained from sticking my tongue out at the feel of Wren’s hand tightening around my neck—an unspoken warning.

You’re not out of the woods yet.

The minute the flustered man scurried away, I shoved against Wren’s chest as hard as I could. Of course, he didn’t move an inch, so I got in his face until we were toe-to-toe.

Never mind that he had almost a foot on me or that we were drawing attention. One of those guided tours walked by, and none of the patrons seemed to be listening as they eyed us. They were probably hoping for a scene so they could record it and post it online.

I was almost giddy at the thought of Wren becoming an internet sensation. That would piss him off more than I ever could.

Wren seemed to have similar thoughts because he smoothly wrapped his arms around my waist making it look like we were a couple.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed.

“Looking for you, of course.”

I wanted to smack away the cocky smile he tried to hide. “How did you find me?”

“Your only friends are all homeless and hungry. How do you think?”

“They’re not my friends.”

“Because you don’t need anyone?” His tone warned me to tread carefully, but like Wren once said, I’d always been hard of hearing.

“Bingo!”

His eyes seemed to darken, and unconsciously, I took a step back. Noticing my fear, he laughed, which just pissed me off even more.

“You’re not as tough as you think, mouse.”

The look I gave him would have withered lesser men. Wren, of course, would never allow himself beneath anyone, least of all me. Ignoring the longing that was warming my belly, I propped my elbow on my wrist and inspected my nails. “And you aren’t as sane as you think. Stalking isn’t something friends do to one another.”

He had me hemmed against the station directory before I could blink—although, to outsiders, it may have looked more like a lover’s embrace. Not that any of the travelers noticed or even cared as they hurried to catch their trains. Their absentminded frenzy was the reason rush hour was the perfect time for picking a wallet or two. On the days I was feeling frisky, I’d steal as many as four.

Still, I looked around hoping to catch the eye of some Good Samaritan. Perhaps the dark-haired man who desperately needed to shave. Even though he had to be twice Wren’s age, he