She knows why he let her in. In a weird way, she's safe. Lynx doesn't ask questions, doesn't do those gentle little intimate caresses or kisses, and doesn't even ask him to take off that mask. He thinks it's because of some sort of understanding she has of him, but really, she just enjoys keeping it all unknown like that.
So long as he keeps that mask on, it isn't really him--whoever he is--under there. It's just Red, the guy in the shadows who may or may not believe that she's an undercover cop as she works his body against the concrete alleyway. The same guy who will speak well of her to Gordon and reek havoc with her gang the next, who slips his hand between her thighs with inexperienced yet fast-learning fingers.
With that mask, she can pretend he's a street-hardened man who knows what he wants, instead of the sweet boy with a damaged heart that she suspects is underneath.
But as she shifts her hips and makes him come against the crevices of the city, she reminds herself that he's the one who decided she will never know.
And that's more than either of them will ever say.
So long as he keeps that mask on, it isn't really him--whoever he is--under there. It's just Red, the guy in the shadows who may or may not believe that she's an undercover cop as she works his body against the concrete alleyway. The same guy who will speak well of her to Gordon and reek havoc with her gang the next, who slips his hand between her thighs with inexperienced yet fast-learning fingers.
With that mask, she can pretend he's a street-hardened man who knows what he wants, instead of the sweet boy with a damaged heart that she suspects is underneath.
But as she shifts her hips and makes him come against the crevices of the city, she reminds herself that he's the one who decided she will never know.
And that's more than either of them will ever say.
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