"You sure this is the right building?"

The look on August's face as he eyed the dilapidated building, partly skeptical, partly horrified, made me laugh.

"I double checked my urban explorer forum. This is the right one."

"And you trust a bunch of strangers on the internet enough to take their word for it?"

"I've known them a lot longer than we've known each other, and you're trusting me," I pointed out.

"I'm rethinking that decision. These stairs look like they're going to give out any minute."

"A guy on my forums was here just the other day. It's perfectly safe."

"If you say so."

August sounded doubtful, but he followed me up the fire escape stairs anyway. It was a good thing he'd changed into jeans after the concert. As safe as the building was, our clothes weren't safe from the dust and grime.

"Don't suppose there's a working elevator?" he asked.

"You'd really trust an elevator in this building?"

"No," he muttered.

When we reached the roof without the stairs falling out from beneath us, August let out a relieved breath.

"Is this really what you do?" he asked. "I'm surprised you haven't plummeted to your death yet."

"It's not that dangerous. Besides, it's worth it. Look."

I pointed outward, towards the city skyline. The nighttime stars twinkled against the dark sky, like precious diamonds nested in a black velvet case. Tall office towers rose up like shining giants. Neon signs glowed like fireflies, so small from this distance.

August came to stand beside me. Even in the darkness I could see his face was full of wonder, of delight.

"You're right," he said. "It is worth it."

I set my backpack down and pulled my camera from my bag. I was traveling light today. Normally I'd bring my full bag of equipment, but this wasn't a real photoshoot. I was only showing August a small sample of what I did.

I checked to make sure the settings were in order and lifted the camera.

"Smile!"

August turned to look at me.

"You can't possibly see my face in this light."

"I don't need to."

I snapped a series of photos, trying different angles. August waited patiently. When I was done, I deleted all but one, keeping a single shot. I held out the camera to show him.

The photo was of the city skyline, with August's profile in shadow. Longish wisps of his hair blew in the wind, crisscrossing against the bright lights.

August leaned in, inspecting the photo closely.

"This is great," he said.

My heart soared at the praise. I'd begun to expect I'd never hear those words from August. I'd been content to simply be good.

"You're making progress." He gave me a wry smile. "I'm beginning to think you don't need my help anymore."

My soaring heart stuttered in my chest. A sort of panic hit me with full force. Did August really think I didn't need him any longer? That panic was soon replaced with disquiet. Was that really all this was? Was August spending time with me… touching me… simply because it helped my art?

I'd begun to think, or perhaps, come to hope, there was something more growing between us.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. Casting my eyes downward to fiddle with my camera strap, I fought to keep my voice steady.

"I guess all that journaling worked. I used to just express my feelings through my art. Never through words."

A gentle hand buried itself in my hair. August tilted my head up. His blue eyes shone in the moonlight, clear and bright.

"Tell me what you're feeling right now?"

This time it was a question, not a demand.

I took in a shuddering breath.

"Sad," I whispered. The beginnings of tears stung the back of my eyes. I blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall.

"I'm feeling happy," he said simply. He continued before I could fully grasp his words. "Happy that you trust me enough to take me along while you work. Happy that I get to be here with you, alone. I'm happy you might not need me anymore."

I inhaled a sharp breath.

"Why?"

His gaze flicked from left to right, looking into each of my eyes, searching and assessing.

"Because it means I can do this."

Leaning forward, so slowly as to give me time to respond, he brought his lips mere inches from mine. I tensed up before relaxing, anticipating.

He kept himself there, not moving. He waited for so long I became impatient, restless.

Something came over me, some carnal instinct that went beyond wants and needs, an instinct that squashed all anxiety and doubt.

In one bold move, I moved forward and pressed our lips together.

Sparks shot through me. I gasped into August's mouth. He used his fingers on my cheek to guide me, urging us closer together.

His tongue swept a line across my bottom lip. I opened to him, unthinking. The slip of his tongue against mine made my head swim. He angled our heads, deepening the kiss.

His taste was as delicious, as sumptuous, as his scent. Black tea and earth and salt.

I wanted more of it. I wanted more of him. No other thought entered my mind while this man's lips were on mine. I wouldn't allow it. This was new and exciting and thrilling. I refused to let worry and uncertainty ruin this moment.

I wanted August. Even before I truly understood what it was to want someone, I'd wanted him. For all the passion and desire that he saw in my art, that he saw in me, it was nothing compared to the passion of his kiss. His lips, teasing for entrance. His tongue, brushing and licking at mine. His hands stroking my hair back from my face, so gentle yet strong.

I was breathless with need. My insides pulsed with desire, my skin begged for his touch. Liquid heat pooled to the apex of my thighs, turning into molten lava, burning me, melting me.

The aching need was almost too much. A single kiss and I was already growing wet.

When I finally had to break the kiss, I clung to him, fisting handfuls of his shirt, not wanting to let go.

As I gasped for air, he covered my hands with his and brought them to his lips. He placed warm kisses to each of my knuckles, easing their grip.

"You don't need to hold on so tight," he said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Do you mean that?" I blurted. "Because I—"

Because after that kiss, I never wanted to let him go, ever again.

August cradled my hands to his chest. He bumped my nose with his.

"I'll stay here all night if you want me to."

My heart swelled in my chest.

"Why are you so good to me?"

"Because you deserve it." Brushing my hair out of my face, he cupped both my cheeks. "I told you before. You have something I don't see very often. It called to me." His eyes searched mine, staring deeply. "Not many people catch my attention the way you did."

It had been my art at first, hadn't it? August said he'd been following my work for some time.

Just like he'd plucked the twins off a street corner, August had come into my life like a whirlwind, sucking me in, sending me to dizzying heights, leaving me disorientated and stirred up inside.

"You may feel out of your depths—" he began to say.

And there he went again, pinpointing my feelings.

"—But you took me by surprise, too," he continued. "This thing between us… it was unexpected, to say the least."

"So you don't often go randomly picking up women at art galleries?"

"No," was all he said.

With his arms wrapped around my waist, he turned his attention to the night sky.

"How long until sunrise, do you think?" he asked.

"A couple hours, maybe."

"I showed you how to play guitar. Why don't you show me how to take photos?" His lips tilted into a wry smile. "Proper photos I mean. Not just quick snaps with my phone."

"It usually involves crawling into weird spaces and crouching down in the dirt to get the right angle. You sure you're up for that?"

He grimaced. I laughed and squeezed him, my arms around his chest.

"Why don't we stick to cityscapes for your first lesson?"

As I explained the various parts of my camera, explained the settings and how they affected each photo, a sort of wonder took hold inside of me.

This man, gorgeous, talented, famous, had followed me up to the roof of a decaying building and was now hanging on my every word.

My heart warmed, melting in my chest. August was showing an interest in my art. Real interest. It had nothing to do with the job he'd hired me for. He wanted to know more about me, more about my work, for no other reason than he was curious.

Setting the camera aside, lessons over for the time being, I pressed my lips to his again, desperately. August seemed content to let me set the pace, letting our lips come together and part slowly, again and again.

We breathed heavily into each other's mouths. I became impatient, wanting to deepen the kiss, but he kept inching back, teasing me. With a growl of frustration, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and tugged him close. Our bodies pressed together, his front firm against the softness of my chest. I molded against him as he slipped his tongue into my mouth, exploring thoroughly.

One warm palm cupped the back of my head, threading fingers through dark strands. That hand began wandering, massaging the back of my neck, sliding down between my shoulders, tracing a line to the small of my back. His firm touch urged me closer, until our hips bumped together.

I felt the beginnings of a hardening length against me. It filled out further with every kiss, every caress. I gasped a quick breath into his mouth in surprise. I hadn't expected August to be as caught up in the moment as I was. I rolled my hips experimentally, pressing down. He let out a small groan into my lips. With a hand on my hip, he guided me closer, showing me his desire. His desire for me.

His thumb rubbed the hollow of my hip. Shivers wracked my body as the motion sent pleasure straight to the pulsing core between my legs. I was aching and throbbing and he'd barely touched me. When we finally met each other skin to skin, I'd probably explode at the seams.

That gave me pause.

I was thinking when. Not if.

August pulled back slightly, noticing my distraction. My lips tingled, slick and glossy from our kiss. His thumb continued rubbing those small, sensual circles.

"What is it?" he murmured into my lips.

"Hey! You there!"

With a start, I whipped around. I could just barely make out the vague outline of a portly man holding a flashlight.

"Security guard," I hissed. The heat inside me extinguished instantly, a cold dread replacing it.

August's gazed flicked over my shoulder. He grinned.

"Time to make our escape, you delinquent."

Hand in hand, we ran back down the rickety fire escape, the stairs clattering and shaking in turns.

As we ran away from the building and into the streets, I knew one thing.

August didn't need to strive for perfection.

He was perfect already.