Even as I solidified that opinion, there was a small part of me—that darker, crazier Cressida that lurked inside me like a schizophrenic bitch—that reminded me of one of my favorite Paradise Lost quotes, “The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell or a hell of heaven.”
It was that small, sunken part of me that wondered if maybe it wasn’t William or my parents who still had me in their cage, or if I was just too cowardly to walk through the very doors I’d pried open for myself.
I was so deep in thought that I jumped when we pulled into McClellan’s parking lot and came to a stop beside my ugly Honda Civic. This time when King swung off, he didn’t help me. Instead, he leaned against my car with his arms and booted feet crossed, guarded and angry.
“For what it’s worth, I had fun tonight,” I said quietly because my conviction was shallow and I was barely able to form the words.
King stared at me hard, it pushed at my chest and made it even harder to breath. I tried to look away from the condemnation in his stare and failed.
“Fuck that,” he bit out.
“Wha—”
He was on me so fast I had no time to bring up my hands or to close my lips before his open mouth landed hot on mine, his tongue stroked against mine in a way that easily erased the words poised there. His lean hips pinned me against the bike, his hand found my neck and I was a goner. There was no hope for any girl when a man like King had them in his arms. Scratch that, no man but King had this kind of power and now, he wielded it over me mercilessly.
“King,” I gasped when he almost viciously bit my lip, dragged it through his teeth then sucked it like a candy.
“Yeah, baby. Tell me again how you can’t do this,” his voice rasped against me.
“Do you want me to give in like this? Because you’re kissing me and not because I think it’s a good idea?”
He closed his eyes, tipped his forehead against mine and sighed over my lips. “No, Cressida. What I want you to do is go home to your cold, lonely bed and think about doing all the dirty stuff you know I wanna do to you. Then I want you to wake up, make breakfast and think about how if I was there, I’d make it for you. After that, before school, I want you to bring your piece of shit car into Hephaestus Auto so I can take a look at it.”
I was nearly dazed by his sweetness, about to ask how he knew I was a teacher when I was pretty sure that I hadn’t told him about my job, and how he knew my name, because I wasn’t sure I’d told him that either, until he started talking about my car.
“Betty Sue is fine. Besides, what do you know about cars?” I demanded.
His lips twitched and he tugged playfully on a lock of my hair. “If you could stop ogling my fine ass for two seconds, you mighta asked me where I worked and I woulda told you Hephaestus Auto and Mechanics.”
My blush made him laugh, but he sobered pretty quickly when I tried to push him away.
“Promise me you’ll bring that car in. Not comfortable with you driving something that may be unsafe, yeah?”
“I don’t want whatever it is you want with me, King, and honestly, I, uh, don’t have the money to get my car fixed.”
He scowled. “Knew it had problems. Now if you don’t bring it in tomorrow, I’m going to have to send a fuckin’ guy out to tow it and I won’t be happy about it. Bring it in, Cress. Just because you don’t wanna pursue what we got doesn’t mean I want you drivin’ a death trap.”
“Okay, King,” I said softly, both because my tequila buzz was veering straight into pure exhaustion and because he was being sweet in that badass biker way I found myself liking.
He nodded then smirked cockily as if he knew it was already a forgone conclusion that he’d get what he wanted from me. Before I could snap at him for it, his mouth was hard on mine and then he was maneuvering me to my car, tapping me on the ass and heading back to his bike.
“Didn’t mention it before but I won’t mind if you think of me in the shower tomorrow too, yeah?” he added just before the roar of his bike starting up drowned any possible hopes I had at retorting.
It was just as well. I was definitely going to think about him in the shower.
I told myself I was spending extra time on my appearance that morning because I was evolving into a new post-William me, a woman who wore what she wanted even if it meant lipstick in the morning on a Thursday and a dress with a form fitting bodice and short, flirty skirt that almost showed too much leg. It was mostly true, so the little lie was easier to swallow.