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middle.
    “Come here.” I kiss her as I get her legs to each side of me. Hooking my hands under her knees, I slide her close. As soon as we connect, she sucks in a breath, her fingers gripping hard into my shoulders. I hear myself let out a slow hiss as she molds to me.
    “Yes,” she breathes. Her hand slides down to my belt, and the last of my self-control goes up in flames.
    I lift her back against the seat and capture her mouth with mine, kissing her hard, then force myself to draw back for a second.
    “Hold on. We missed a key step here.” I run my hands over her body again. “This needs to come off before I lose my mind.” I don’t feel a zipper or buttons, on her back, or her side, or her stomach. “Did this thing get sewn onto you?”
    She laughs, and it’s that same crystal-clear sound. “Actually, yes.”
    I peer at her. “You’re serious?”
    “Yes. Yours comes off, though,” she says, tugging my Zorro peasant shirt off. My mask almost snags and comes off with it. I’m relieved it doesn’t. We’re both under a spell and our faces, our real selves, might break it.
    I straighten my mask and study her costume, trying to figure out what I’m seeing in the darkness. I’m considering ripping the damn thing off her when I realize she’s gone quiet and still.
    Her gaze is focused on my tattoo, which is lit by a shaft of moonlight streaming in through the rear window like it’s under a spotlight. I shift, searching for a patch of darkness, but she reaches up and stops me.
    “This is beautiful,” she says.
    Shit.
    Her fingers are light as they run down the length of my shoulder. Barely a touch, but I almost jerk away.
    “It’s nothing.” It comes out sounding rough. Not like myself. But I want this girl. I don’t want to get pulled into the past.
    Catwoman blinks at me. “You don’t like it?”
    “I got it as a reminder. Of a mistake.”
    That line always shuts down any further questions. I lean down to kiss her, trying to get us back on track.
    Catwoman’s touch on my shoulder grows firmer, keeping me back. “Mistakes are everything.”
    “Look, can we—what?”
    “Mistakes,” she says. “It’s how we learn. Did you learn from it? Because if you did, then you shouldn’t hide it from anyone.”
    She must see something in my expression because she looks suddenly self-conscious.
    “Sorry, I . . . I don’t mean to take this in a weird, deep direction. I just think it’s beautiful. And I think you should see it that way too, even if it reminds you of a mistake because that’s just really . . . real . And, sometimes, real is good, you know?”
    I sit back against the seat, my mind blown.
    Who is this girl?

Chapter 5
Alison
    H e pulls away from me, and I could kick myself for coming on too strong. I don’t want to derail this moment. I want it to go on and on.
    I lean down to brush my lips over the beautiful, strange markings on his chiseled arm. They’re a little like the Escher painting of birds that become sky that become birds, but they’re falling, cascading down his arm and, I imagine, spilling down his back. I breathe in the scent of his aftershave—leather and cloves—and run my hands over his beautiful, solid body.
    Give this to yourself, says the voice in my head. What can it hurt?
    I’m not sure whose voice it is. It doesn’t sound like my own. Maybe it’s Catwoman’s? My voice would tell me to slide out of the car, run down the path—preferably without breaking any bones, andcall Philippe to rescue me from myself before I do something impulsive¸ something I might regret.
    This is supposed to be about business, about proving to my parents that I’m okay now. That I’m capable of doing what needs to be done. I shouldn’t be here, in the back of this car, with this gorgeous stranger. Should definitely not wrap my legs around his and pull him hard against me. Shouldn’t bring my lips down to his so I can feel his sweet warm breath again, draw his tongue into my