Page 34 of Glimmer and Burn (Unity #1)

Miss Stone shrugged. “Graves is too smart. And we’re greatly restricted by red tape and rules. We can’t figure out which of the officers are on his payroll and anyone higher than Gideon thinks he’s a champion of the city.”

“That’s why I maintain that it was insanity to join up with the Watchmen.” Devin’s comment earned a harsh glare from Miss Stone.

“Better than drinking away our feelings.” She took a deep breath, arms crossing over the mess surrounding her. “What brings you here in the middle of the night, anyway? You didn’t come to chit-chat towing a guardian noble behind you.”

“No, we were hoping to speak with Blair.”

Miss Stone’s eyes hardened. “That won’t be possible until morning.

The Captain doesn’t get here till at least nine.

And he’ll be hungover. Begging me to do the shift briefing while he holes up in here to sleep another few hours.

Meanwhile, I’ve been up half the night trying to make heads or tails of this sty he calls an office when I know he’s just going to come in here and mess it all up again.

” She took a calming breath and Miranda sensed there was a special sort of history between the Captain and Miss Stone.

“I was about to head home, but you’re welcome to wait for him.

I trust you not to go unlocking criminals in the cell bay or tamper with evidence or, honestly, I don’t care enough to stop you.

There’s a few cots set up in the back offices if you need sleep.

” She eyed Devin and then Miranda. “Separate offices, if that’s the preference. ”

“It is,” Miranda insisted, but a little too forcefully. Miss Stone sent Devin a look that was both critical and knowing.

“I’m sorry I can’t offer a chaperone. That matters to those upper ring types, doesn’t it?” Miss Stone asked, but not unkindly. “There’s Watson over in dispatch, but…” She cringed. “You’d need a chaperone for him , if you get my meaning.”

“It’s fine,” Miranda insisted, ready for this whole topic to be over.

“Alright then, goodnight,” she said guiding them out the door.

Miss Stone descended the stairs, locking Gideon’s office behind her and leaving Miranda and Devin in the upstairs hall outside it. Alone.

He may have said he would no longer attempt to sway her into anything untoward, but she did not fully trust herself to abide by her part of the bargain and, in truth, she hadn’t decided if she wanted to.

She was already curious to learn what he could show her, to feel that rush again, to bask in the impropriety of just one more night.

Devin watched her, arms crossed over his chest. He wore perfectly fitted black everything with a black vest and sleeves rolled up his forearms. His dark hair was roguishly tousled, just a hint longer than was fashionable. If she stared at him any longer the decision would be made for her.

She risked meeting his eyes, but she did not find desire. He was merely watching, waiting, she supposed, to see what she would do next. What was she going to do next?

“What’ll it be, Miranda?” he asked, voice brushing through her body like satin. Two voices warred in her thoughts.

You don’t have to be curious, you can find out for yourself.

And if he pushes you away again?

Would it be worth it?

Can your heart take the hit?

Miranda had lived so much of her life on the right and proper side of the rules.

Though she had always been mischievous and her mother liked to deem her a rebel, she had never actually crossed any line that couldn’t be uncrossed.

Sneaking out to Lydia’s house. Childish larks.

Running in her dresses. Saying the wrong things.

None of it compared to this. If she gave in, if she allowed how very much she wanted him to do all the wicked things his eyes had once suggested, then she was choosing a path and destroying another.

The future her parents had wanted, the hovering threat of marriage and children and wasting away all the training as she carried on the family legacy, it would not be possible.

She could never settle once she knew what awaited her.

She had expected the idea to terrify her, that her future might be suddenly thrown into flux on this one decision.

You made your decision long ago. It’s already too late.

It was already too late.

Miranda swallowed as she responded, her chin rising into the air, “What do you mean? I plan to find one of those offices and bar the door.”

“I promised not to pursue, so there’s no need for bars.”

She nodded and then turned on her heel. Heading down an open hallway, one side against the walls of offices, the other a railing that looked out over the entire lower floor, she found a row of rooms with the doors partially ajar.

Inside were tables and shelves full of cleaning supplies and two cots each with folded blankets and a pillow.

She imagined that officers needing a place to sleep between longer shifts might find refuge here for a few hours.

Miranda paused. There were three rooms in front of her.

“Which will it be?” Devin’s voice was far behind her, as if he dared not get too close. And his tone held no trace of promise or flirtation. He simply asked. Still, she flinched.

“It hardly matters.” She stalked toward the first open room and stopped in the doorway. Sparing the barest turn of her head. Her breath caught.

Devin watched .

Whatever mask he’d been wearing while attempting to keep his promise had slipped completely.

His gaze seemed to hinge on her every motion.

Her finger twitched and his eyes darted to her hand before returning to her face.

Heavens above, there was no mistaking his intentions now.

With a fluttery breath she turned away and closed her eyes.

Then she made a choice for herself. Freeing herself of a future she hated for the excitement of uncertainty. Her future was hers to discover. Though, a minuscule part of her—tucked into her heart—hoped that Devin would still be with her when she found it.

She proceeded into the room and fiddled with the lantern so light bloomed to ease the darkness and then crossed her arms. She glanced back into the hall, where Devin waited. Watching .

She swallowed.

“You haven’t closed the door,” he said.

She had not closed the door.

Miranda returned her focus on the room, to the furnishings or the…

Her fingers trembled at her sides, but this was not with fear or frustration. She tried to keep her motions minimal as she clenched her thighs to the pulsing want that begged her to put her pride aside and forgive him.

He stepped closer, inches from the room.

“Close the door, Miranda.”

She met his gaze. He waited, ready to pounce.

Waited for her to give the command.

The thought was thrilling and empowering.

He stepped into the doorway, but did not enter. “Mira, close the door.”

She stepped forward and put her hand on the door handle, like she intended to close it on him. The loss and rejection were instant, his eyes filling with panic. But he did not move or speak. He was going to let her decide. He was so easy to tease.

Miranda reached out with her other hand and hooked a finger into his vest.

“Oh, you have made a very grave error in judgment,” he hissed as he walked into her grip, not even waiting to be pulled, and shut the door as he towered over her, eyes dark and full of wicked promise. Darkness descended on the room and her eyes adjusted to the softer glow of the single lantern.

Miranda chewed her lip as she stroked the finger hooked in his vest up the soft linen of his shirt. Her head tilted and she rose up on her toes to say against his lips, “I hope so.”

I hope so.

Devin sealed his mouth over her words and, as before, the spark between them ignited into a blaze.

Miranda’s passion was rooted in combat, driven to conquer, to overpower.

She was climbing him, wrapping every leather clad contour of her body over him, her lust warring with the instinct to take him down.

And he would have eagerly submitted. But he had intention this time, and she was not going to rush this. She bared her teeth as he pulled away, a primal reaction that ratcheted the pounding of his pulse to deafening, but he was determined to resist.

Miranda had a taste, a sample, but she had no idea the possibilities that awaited. Devin was not the sort to deny a lady her conquests, in the sexual sense, but he would much rather her know the options before placing her order.

“I thought you promised to show me what I was missing,” she said, still wrapped around him without need of support. He eased her hands from his neck and her legs dropped to the ground.

“I know what I promised,” he said, hands now free to trace the skin above her collar, attempting a more relaxed pace. He needed clarity to properly unearth her intimate desires. “What I promised, was to not hold back.” He undid the first hook of her uniform. “Which I am not.”

She shivered, completely entranced.

Good .

That was the only way he’d keep her from throwing him to the ground and destroying all his meticulous plans—which was an equally tempting option.

His body screamed to let her have her way, to set her loose on another erotic journey of discovery.

Let her learn what felt good by taking whatever she wanted.

But oh, how he wanted to show her. If he was a rake and a rogue and a villain for wanting to be the one to show Miranda Wilde what made her body sing, then…well, he was going to burn for this anyway.

“I intend a more thorough exhibition of what was lacking in our last assignation.” His hands nimbly unhooked and freed ties, letting his fingers drag or stroke along her body as he worked down.

“I believe I promised not to stop until you are entirely satisfied.” His face hovered near hers, watching how his words affected her features.

All her longing clear in her parted lips, lidded gaze, and sharp breaths.