“No.” I shake my head, my pulse clanging like church bells in my ears. “I’m absolutely not going over thatthing.”
Elijah tightens his hold on my hand when I attempt to back away. “It’s just abridge.”
“Over water. Abigbridge overwater.”
“You can’t live in New York and never walk across the Brooklyn Bridge,” hesays.
“I’ve lived here just fine for ten years and managed not to doit.”
“It’s iconic.” The lights from the bridge catch in his eyes and I swear, they’re gleaming. He must be a sadist, because I think my panic is feedinghim.
“I don’t give two shits if it’s iconic. I amnotwalking across that suspended deathtrap.”
He tosses his head back with a deep laugh, still clutching my hand in his. “It’s perfectly safe.” He points at it. “Look at all that traffic. Day in. Day out. It’s been standing for over one-hundredyears.”
“Exactly,overa hundred years!” I scoff. “And it’s safe until one day itisn’t.”
“You’re genuinelyterrified?”
A group of teen girls come skipping off the bridge, arms linked and smiling. “I Googled the safety of it once, to make myself feel better.” I shake my head. “Did you know they used defective cables when they builtit?”
He gives me a smug, disbelievinglook.
“They did. And they left it because it was still considered strong enough.” I point to the cables tying steel to brick. “It’s only a matter oftime.”
“You shouldn’t useGoogle.”
“Knowledge ispower.”
“Complete knowledge is power. Googled knowledge is fear.” An amused grin works over his face. He drags me toward the damn bridge. If this man thinks he’s just going to waltz me onto that thing with his charming smile and dimples, he couldn’t be morewrong.
“Look, I’ve gone across it in a car,” I say. “What’s the point in walkingit?”
“Because you’re afraid ofit.”
“And I’m fine being withthat.”
The breeze blows around us; the hum of traffic falls in the background. He tugs me against his chest before his knuckles brush my cheek. “The truth is, I’m selfish. I like pushing you your limits.” He presses his lips to mine, stealing my breath while his thumb traces my jaw. When he breaks the kiss, a buzz sizzles throughme.
Before I even realize what he’s doing, he’s grabs my waist, lifts me from the ground, and then throws me over his shoulder like I’m nothing more than a smallchild.
And…he’s started toward thebridge.
I struggle against him, pinching the back of his bicep while I kick my legs. “Let mego!”
“I’ll put you down once we reach the middle.” His arm tightens over the back of mythighs.
“Don’t youdare!”
He’s still walking. My heart is pounding. Hammering. Galloping. The entrance is right there. He’s really going to carry me across the fuckingbridge.
“I’m going to scream that you’re kidnapping me if you don’t put me down,” Iholler.
“You wouldn’t.” He keepsgoing.
There’s the brick archway which means—I glance at the wooden boards—we’reonthe bridge. I feel the blood drain from my face, and I fist the back of his shirt in my sweaty palms. The lights on the cables burn bright, reflecting off the water far below us. Traffic zooms over the roadway that lies beneath the walkway, and I swear, I can feel the bridge bounce.Oh my God.My insides shake. I slam my eyes closed, gripping his shirt tighter in myhands.
“See, I knew you wouldn’t scream,” he says, proudly, like the arrogant asshole heis.
