Page 30 of Corrupt

Razor’s breath hitched as I kept stroking his neck, drifting under the edge of his collar where I could feel the goosebumps rise beneath my touch, one by one, rippling outwards like a chain reaction he couldn’t control.

“You’re playin’ with fire, Tricky.”

“I know.”

I was putting my hand right into that flame because he looked at me as if I was the only solid thing left in a world that had slipped out from under him. Because he leant into me, as if he wanted more. The space between us wasn’t space at all anymore, it was heat and breath and the static charge of two worlds colliding. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lifted again, and he looked lost. My chest tightened. This was wrong. All of it.

Illegal. Unethical. Impossible.

But sitting in that parked car, stroking the back of his neck, feeling him tremble under my fingertips, I knew one thing with absolute clarity: neither of us would pull away first.

“Why do you keep walkin’ into my world?” Razor tilted his head so I could trace his skin.

I swept my thumb over his pulse point. “Could be you walking into mine.”

“Maybe.” His eyes fluttered shut as I stroked up into his hairline, feeling the soft bristle tickle my fingertips.

I swallowed, guilt and desire tangling. “I take it from those questions… you didn’t clean your line.”

“I cleaned it. Bastard rat slipped in the polish.”

“How bad a rat?”

“Big one. Huge teeth. Massive fuckin’ mouth. And scared shitless he’s gonna get thrown to the wolves.”

I closed my eyes, dropped my hand away.

The car went very still.

After a moment, Razor glanced sideways at me. “You went to Lennon.”

I opened my eyes, met his. “I thought you were dead.”

“You told him.” There was no malice. No real accusation. It was merely a statement. Soft and delivered without regret.

“No.”

He gave me a look as if he could see every lie I’d ever told.

I lifted my hand. “I swear, your honour. He guessed. I didn’t confirm anything.”

“Why?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to find an answer that wouldn’t strip me bare. Going to Lennon had been a mistake. Sitting here with Razor, wanting him to touch me, was another. None of this had been part of any rational plan.

“Maybe because I didn’t want it to be over.” I dipped my head back to look at him. “Didn’t want to think you wouldn’t crawl through my window again.”

Razor looked away sharply, breath catching. Then, “You moved anyway.”

I frowned. “Yeah. How did you—?” I drew a breath. “Fuck. Did you go back there?”

He turned to me, shrugged once, shallow. “The window was fixed.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. He’d come back. To me.

And I hadn’t been there.

“Why did you come back?”