“Don’t. Move.”

Jaxon’s whisper was so sharp it cut through the pounding of Raven’s pulse. His hand pressed against her stomach, dragging her flush against his chest as the sound of boots thundered past the alley.

Her breath hitched, not from fear, but from the way his body molded to hers in the shadows. The wall was cold at her back. He was in heat and danger at her front.

“They’ll hear us,” she breathed, lips grazing the corner of his jaw as she tried not to tremble.

“Then ...