Yours at Midnight by Robin Bielman Read Free Book Online Page B

into the palm of her hand. “I’m going to kill my mother.”
    “I’ll help you hide the body.”
    That got a laugh out of her. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
    He closed in on his prey and caught her by the shoulders. She stiffened, then relaxed when he started to massage the knots lumped under his fingers. “Christ, you’re carrying a lot of stress back here.”
    Her head lolled forward. “I guess.”
    “Turn around.” He guided her until he could really dig his hands into the kinks behind her neck. “So how am I doing?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “On the points scale?”
    “Dead bodies do rank pretty high, so I’d say you’re at negative five hundred now.” Her shoulders relaxed, and she let out a sigh. “That feels so good. Thank you.”
    He fought the urge to stroke his hands over her body. “My pleasure,” he whispered in her ear, letting his lips linger at her ear lobe.
    Lyric twisted away from him. Her eyes blazed with a desire that matched his own, but she said, “I really think you should go now.”
    She hurried around the table and opened the front door. A cool breeze swept in, extinguishing the heat between them.
    He’d let her be for now. “I’ll see you in the morning at ten?”
    “Nine-thirty, and you’re buying the coffee.”
    “Deal.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, drawn once again to the slope of her neck. She trembled and leaned into his hand.
    If he didn’t walk out the door right now, he’d never leave.
    “What’s the theme for the party this year?” He stepped over the threshold, his attention dipping to the Welcome mat. Lyric’s home was definitely that—warm and comfortable. He dreaded going back to his parents’ house.
    She groaned. “Fifties Sock Hop.”
    “Really? You wearing a poodle skirt?”
    “Yes.”
    “Looks like I’ll need a leather jacket. A little gel in my hair.”
    Lyric giggled, and something moved inside his chest. “You like the idea of dressing up?”
    “I’m channeling James Dean, baby. You’d better watch out.” He had no idea where this playfulness came from, but he enjoyed it.
    She leaned on the door while she pushed it to close. “I’ll be watching all right.”
    “Good.”
     

 
    Chapter Five
    Lyric was going straight to hell.
    The devil told her so. Last night. In her dream. After she’d had mind-blowing, imaginary sex with Quinn in a huge bed with fluffy white pillows and a billowing comforter, and still hadn’t told him the truth about Max. She’d fallen from bliss to purgatory in point zero five seconds.
    God, he had a nice ass.
    Quinn. Not the devil. Ew.
    The barista behind the Starbucks counter obviously thought he had a nice front, because she was currently undressing him with her eyes. Lyric fought the urge to get up from the table, brush up beside him, and whisper hey baby in his ear. He wasn’t hers. She had no claim on him. She wanted to throw up.
    “Hope I got this right,” he said, handing over a cup and sliding into the seat across from her. “I might have screwed up the espresso part.”
    She took a sip. “Blech!”
    He grinned. “Oops. Gave you my cup.” He traded her.
    “You did that on purpose!”
    “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.”
    She’d have to put on blinders if he didn’t stop with the mischievous look and twinkle in his eyes. This playful, more relaxed Quinn unnerved her.
    “Much better,” she said, sighing as she sampled the perfect blend of non-fat milk and double shot of espresso. “Thank you.”
    “Where we headed this morning?”
    “There’s a store downtown called Decades that should have what my mom wants. She’s tasked us with a few more decorations, too.”
    “You want to go now?”
    “Sure.”
    “Lyric?” came a masculine voice from behind her.
    She spun around. “Dylan? Hi. How are you?”
    His dark hair and green eyes were exactly how she remembered. He squeezed past the line of customers and wrapped her in an awkward, not-sure-how-close-to-get hug.