“Are you being a bad girl?”
“Are you evading the subject?”
“Are you asking me questions without answering mine first again? I think we both agreed that that’s something I will not tolerate.”
“I’m not being a bad girl.” I keep my tone casual. “But I’m not sure what to make of your fascination with my brother.”
“Stepbrother,” he corrects.
“Tomato, tomahto.” I shrug.
“He doesn’t deserve you in his life.”
“That’s not for you to decide.” I grind my teeth together.
“I like it when you’re mad.” He cocks one eyebrow. I immediately melt and hate myself for it. Goddammit, Pierce James.
His eyes are still on mine as he signals the waitress to bring us the check. He pays. We walk out. We walk together, but we don’t touch each other. There’s something sizzling in the air, and I cannot wait for it to explode. When we both get into his Audi, he starts the car and drives outside the town limits until he reaches an old, deserted dirt road, then kills the engine.
I wait.
He reaches a hand to the side of his seat and presses a button. His seat moves back a few more inches from the steering wheel. He pats his lap.
“Come.” It’s an order.
Don’t mind if I do.
I don’t waste any time. I swing one leg over the middle console and straddle him. His hands immediately find my waist, gripping almost painfully hard. I meet his eyes and bite my lip under his close proximity. He grips the back of my neck and rests his forehead against mine, exhaling raggedly.
“Fuck the consequences,” he mutters, and then his lips are on mine again. His tongue dips past my lips, and he tastes like Cherry Coke.
“Mmm,” I moan, sucking his tongue into my mouth. He groans, and I feel his hard length twitch between my legs. Instinctively, I grind on him, selfishly seeking the friction that I need. He slides both hands down the gap at the back of my cut-off jean shorts and pulls me into him. He’s fucking my mouth with his, and I never want this to stop. This feeling. Right here. It’s so perfect, I could cry. He squeezes my ass, controlling the rhythm, and I pull away from our kiss to gasp at the sensation. He licks and nips and bites his way down my jaw, down to my collarbone, and everywhere in between.
His lips are on my neck, but my heart is in his teeth.
I want more, so I lift the plain white T-shirt I stole from him over my head and toss it into the backseat. His eyes drop to my sports bra, and my nipples grow impossibly hard. Goose bumps prickle my skin. And he hasn’t even made a move yet. I cross my arms over my chest to remove my bra, too, but right before I’m about to spill out of the bottom, his hands stop mine.
“Remington, wait,” he says, like he can’t believe he’s stopping me. That makes two of us. I drop my hands, and he rights my bra, pulling it back down over my chest.
“We can’t go any further than this,” he explains.
“But I need you,” I almost whine. “I need you to make me feel good.”
“Fuck, Remi. You can’t say things like that,” he growls, thrusting his hips upward. I want to melt against him. I feel like I might. My lust for him is smeared all over my underwear. Every nerve in my body sizzles with desperation.
Remi. That’s the first time he’s referred to me other than Miss Stringer or Remington or pain in the ass, and I die a little at him using my nickname.
“For how long?” I don’t need to specify. He knows what I mean.
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head, scrubbing his face with his palms. “Jesus Christ. Look, I don’t want to ruin you.”
“You’re giving yourself an awful lot of credit, Mr. James,” I tease, raising a brow, masking the fear that’s creeping its way into my head. He could ruin me. I could ruin his career. This game that we’re playing… it’s not going to have a happy ending. And if we’re not careful, the consequences will be grave.
He smirks, but when I start to move on top of him again, the smile disappears.
“So, just kissing?” I ask.
“Just kissing.” He nods faintly.