Page 153 of A Million To Fall

“Hi,” I say, raising my hand like a doofus.

His eyebrows draw together. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“How long?”

“Not long. Only about five hours,” I say nonchalantly, pushing to my feet and patting imaginary dirt from the back of my jeans.

“Five hours?”

I shrug. “I mean, I wasn’t sitting in front of your door the whole time. I spent a lot of it sitting in my car listening to my audiobook,” I say like that makes it any less weird.

“Okay,” he says slowly, taking a hesitant step forward. “Well… since you waited so patiently, do you want to come in?”

“If you don’t mind,” I say, suddenly feeling stupidly shy despite the fact that just yesterday, Boston kissed me until I forgot my own name and held my heart in his hands without dropping it. “I really need to talk to you.”

He just hums in response.

I step aside, giving him room to unlock the door. He reaches inside first to turn on the lights, then stands back and waits for me to enter before following me inside. Gentleman.

The door clicks shut behind him.

And just like that, the wall of tension between us slams into me all over again.

We stand awkwardly, and I don’t quite know where to begin. I look up into his eyes. They’re not soft this time. They’re steely. Searching and unreadable.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says quietly. The words twist like a knife in my gut. “We’re—”

I throw my arms around his neck and crash my lips against his, silencing him. He thinks he knows, but he has no idea. Not really.

For a moment he’s frozen, body tense, arms slack by his sides. But I don’t let go, don’t stop kissing him. And then he melts against me, muscles relaxing as his hands move to my waist and tug me closer against him. He kisses me back. Actually kisses me back, fervently. Lips soft, tongue massaging, devouring.

A small moan escapes me with the moist heat immediately pooling in my core. But the sound brings him to his senses.

His mouth retreats first, then his hands as he takes a step back, creating distance.

“Skye,” he says, low. “What the hell is going on? What are we doing?”

It’s not the first time he’s asked, but tonight it sounds more like a plea than a question.

I swallow hard, trying to find the words. Trying to make sense of something that never really made sense to begin with.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry, Boss. For yesterday. For this morning. For everything.”

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. Just waits. Watching me with those gray eyes.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” I say, exhaling a shaky breath. “I realized something a while ago. About the world I’ve been living in. The power that surrounds me. It’s like doors are just open for me.”

I laugh once, bitterly.

“I never even noticed it before because it’s always been there. The connection. The influence. All of it. It didn’t hit me until recently. How much that power could do. How much it could change things.”

Boston frowns but doesn’t speak.

“That night when you introduced yourself to Mr. Longfellow at Jake’s, he realized who you were. He asked about you on the drive back to Archer’s. And that’s when the idea took root. That maybe I could use some of that power to help you somehow. Help your family—”

Boston shakes his head vehemently. “No, Skye, you’ve already done too much for me. This apartment—”