“I’ll be right back,” I say to Dad, patting his shoulder. “I just want to make sure I turned off my headlights.”
I practically sprint outside. It’s gotten surprisingly cold in the last hour, and I rub my arms with both hands as peer out into the dark parking lot. I can’t see Smith, or anything else, for that matter, save a handful of cars.
“So what exactly is a nice girl like you doing in a fucking dive like this?”
Without any street lamps, I still can’t see him all that well, but the glowing orange tip of his cigarette clues me in to where he’s leaning up against the side of the restaurant. I don’t move any closer, but I wrap my arms tighter around myself, as though holding my body together. As though caging my heart deep inside myself.
“My dad loves burgers,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Dino’s has the best.”
He pauses for a second. I can hear him taking a deep drag, then exhale hard.
“So, your dad’s in a wheelchair,” he says.
“So, Officer Rains is your brother,” I shoot back.
He steps forward then, and I can see him a little better now as my eyes adjust to the light, or lack thereof. For a long moment, the only sound around us is the sparse traffic and the hum of the restaurant’s inner workings.
“Look,” I finally sigh, digging my frozen hands into my pockets. “I have to ask.”
Smith frowns. “Ask what?”
“If your brother knows.”
He blinks at me. “If he knows what?”
I really want to punch him right now. The frustration and fear welling up inside me feels like it’s about to erupt. I don’t understand how Smith can’t see that the stakes are incredibly high here for me. I could lose my potential employment. My livelihood. My future. I don’t have anyone taking care of me—my dad isn’t capable anymore and, let’s face it, Brett was never capable of taking care of anyone but himself.
I can’t lose my career over this. Over him.
But, before I can respond, Smith takes another step toward me and, this time, I can see his face well enough to know this question irritates him.
“If he knows what?” he repeats, his voice a raspy drawl. I wonder if it’s from smoking or something else.
“Stop being coy, and just tell me. Do I have anything to worry about my job when it comes to your brother?”
The gravel shifts beneath his feet and he wraps one hand hard around my wrist. I gasp at the contact, preparing to wrench myself away from him, but Smith is far stronger and faster than I am. He flicks his cigarette away, then moves forward, steering me until my back is against the restaurant’s exterior wall.
“What do you think I told him?” he asks.
His voice is strained, but dripping with suggestion. He reaches up and drags two fingers along the side of my neck.
“Do you think I told him how your pulse flutters beneath this spot when you’re nervous?”
I swallow hard, then steel my gaze as best as I can.
“Smith . . .”
He ignores me, cocking his head a bit and staring into my eyes. In this light, the color of his irises is far closer to black than blue. I feel a little shiver run over my skin as I watch the muscles in his arms flex and tighten. His lips are moist and full, but he licks them for good measure and I can feel his touch everywhere—even in the places where he really shouldn’t touch me.
“Do you think I told him how, when I kiss beneath your ear, you make the prettiest little whimpers?”
His voice is intoxicating and I want to close my eyes.
“Do you think I told him how you may look angelic, but your tongue can do devilish things in a man’s mouth?”
He leans in so close, I feel his breath against my lips and I have no choice but to breathe it in. To breathe him in.
“Do you think I told him how you have the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen? Or how much I want to taste you?”
He moves a hand from my shoulder to my waist, then lets it coast slowly down toward my thigh.
“How I’m dying to feel how wet you are right now. How I want to slide my cock so deep inside you, you’ll feel me every time you move for a whole week after.”
I can’t help it.
I moan.
I moan in a way I should not be moaning, in a way that makes me want to clamp my hand over my mouth, which I would if Smith didn’t have me effectively pinned against him and the wall.
“Hyacinth,” he murmurs. His breath is coming in quick bursts, and he ducks his head to press his mouth against my collarbone. I feel the bristles of his hair along my jaw, and all I want to do is pull him closer.
“Please.”
The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it, and I don’t even have time to regret it before Smith pulls me harder against him. He slides his hand further up my inner thigh until he reaches the edge of my panties. He toys with the elastic with his fingers and I feel my eyes cross.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispers against my skin. I shake my head.
“I don’t know what I want. I don’t think . . .”
“You think too much,” Smith scolds, but his tone is gentle. Ever so slowly, he lets his fingers slide over the wet silk between my needy flesh and his confident touch.
“Fuck,” Smith mutters, trailing his hand along my dampness before moving my underwear aside. “You’re so wet for me.”
As his fingertips swirl through my wetness, one lands on my clit and makes a steady pulsing rhythm.
“Oh my God,” I whimper.
Smith chuckles at my words, then leans in to press his mouth against mine.
“Let me take you home tonight,” he says.
I swallow, glancing back at the grimy door of Dino’s.
“I need to take my dad back to Holly Fields.”
“After that, then.”
I open my mouth to say no at the exact same time as two of Smith’s fingers breach my tight opening. I literally have to force myself not to cry out.
The truth is that I want him inside me.
The truth is that I want to go home with him.
“I’ll make you feel so good, baby,” Smith is murmuring in my ear. He moves his fingers in an even faster rhythm, and I can feel my body involuntarily grinding down against his hand.
“I can’t wait to see your body spread out in front of me,” he whispers. “You’ll be wet and ready and throbbing and begging me to fuck you. But I won’t do it—not until I get my mouth on that hot pussy.”
He grazes my earlobe with his teeth, and I shiver at the slight pinch of pain when he bites lightly.
“I bet you like it hard and deep, don’t you, baby? I bet you want me to make you scream. Tell me how you like it—how we should start.”
He thrusts his fingers deeper and my legs almost collapse beneath me.
“You want to start pressed up against the wall?” He asks, his voice a low growl. “Or how about with you splayed across my kitchen table, your pussy poised right at one edge so I can fuck you while I’m still standing up?”
“God, yes,” I practically moan. I’m running out of words that aren’t expletives or basic animal grunts.
Smith chuckles deeply, then in one swift movement, spins me around so that my belly and breasts are flattened against the exterior wall. Before I can make a sound, he’s yanked my underwear down my legs and shoved his hand back between them, adding a third finger to where there were only two before.
“Maybe you’ll like it from behind,” he says, filling my wet channel over and over with the thrilling pulse and stretch of his thick fingers. “Maybe you’ll like it when I bend you over and hold you down.”
Oh holy fuck. Yes. I’ll do it. I’ll go home with him.
I open my mouth to say as much when a car swoops into the parking lot of Dino’s, its headlights piercing the night and our cover of darkness. Immediately, I jump and Smith curses under his breath, but it seems to be a bright, gravel-spitting wake-up call that I desperately needed.