looking so fucking forward to Wednesdays.
In the forty-minute journey between Devil’s Cove and Devil’s Dip, Rory and I have said less than five words to each other. All of them polite and professional. I said “no” when she silently offered me a Big Red, and she muttered “okay” when I told her to be back in an hour.
Now, as I watch her bounce across the road and disappear into the darkness between the trees, my car hums with unspoken words. The ones that aren’t so polite and professional.
Christ. I have a Wasabi-flavored Kit-Kat melting in my glove box. It’s left over from my trip to Tokyo a few weeks back, and when I found it tucked into the seam of my luggage, my first thought was her. I’d smiled to myself, fucking smiled, picturing the adorable expression on her face when she bit into it and recoiled at the heat. But that was before the engagement party, before we drew lines under whatever the fuck this is.
The first line, she drew. But it was shallow and, judging by the flush on her skin and the way her eyes still found my mouth every time I spoke, I knew she’d crumble like a cookie if I stepped across it.
I drew the second line after talking to Tor. I made sure to reinforce it with warning signs and a barbed-wire fence at the All Saints service by telling her my darkest secret, plus a few lies about being a cheat just to seal the deal. Now, she won’t be tempted to cross the line because I’ve made it clear that it’s not greener on my side. It’s cold, dark, and barren over here.
She’s better off over there.
Fuck. I need to get off this Coast and back to my real life, away from Rory and the dark temptation she holds. While I wait for her to finish up with her father, I strengthen my resolve by answering business emails and scrolling through meeting notes: anything to help me connect with my life in London again.
It feels a lot further away than just the other side of the Atlantic.
When Aurora finally emerges from the woods, I get out of the car and lean against the bonnet. She watches me wearily as she approaches, slowing to a stop just a few feet away.
Her gaze thins. “I don’t like it when you stare at me like that.”
I bite back my retort, keep my expression indifferent. “I need you to make me a list of every degenerate you know of in Devil’s Dip.”
She cocks a brow. “Of people I think could have killed your mom?”
I nod.
“Okay.”
As she sidesteps the car, I push off the bonnet and block her path. She stills, her eyes trailing up to meet mine. “You mean now?”
Another nod. “Right now. The quicker you can help me find him, the quicker I can get off the Coast.”
Disappointment flickers in her irises but I pretend like I haven’t seen it. Like it doesn’t punch me in the fucking gut. It passes quickly, replaced by a hardened expression and a steeled spine. She fishes in her purse, and hands me a fistful of candy wrappers. Amusement rises inside of me. Then, she pulls out a brochure, dog-eared around the edges.
“I have a map of Devil’s Dip, actually.” She gives a wide berth as she steps around me and unfolds it, smoothing it out over the bonnet of my car.
“Why the fuck do you need a map? You forget where you’ve lived your entire life?”
“No,” she hisses, rummaging around her bag for a pen. “You’ll be surprised how many times I’ve come across lost tourists in the forest. Every now and again they stray too far from their five-star hotel in Devil’s Cove, looking for a relaxing nature walk. They never seem to realize that it’s not that type of park. I like to have a point of reference to help them out.”
I stand over her shoulder, my chest brushing against her back. “Sounds like something a good girl would do.”
Her back tenses; a bird-word comes out in a whisper. Then she leans over the map and starts scribbling over different parts with shaky penmanship.
When she stands back up, I’m directly behind her. Closer than she expected. Close enough to hear the gasp escape her lips as her ass grazes my groin. Close enough to her for my cock to twitch.
“Um,” she breathes, brushing her fingers over the map. “I’ve marked a cross next to the address of everyone I know in Dip that matches the description of the man that killed your mom. None are actually criminals, but they aren’t model citizens, either.”
I’m barely listening. I’m too busy playing referee to an argument between my brain and my cock. My brain wins, and I take a step back. “Thanks,” I grunt, folding up the map and slipping it in my blazer pocket.
I head toward the driver’s seat, but something tugging on my lapel stops me from moving. Scowling, I look down and see Rory’s small fist bunching my blazer. My gaze moves back up to her face.
“Something you want to say?” I ask icily.
There’s a threat underpinning my tone but it doesn’t make her flinch. Instead, she meets my glare with defiance. “I, uh. I think we should stay for a while.”
Fuck. Why does her voice wrap around my cock like a vise? It’s low and syrupy. Full of heat and ill intentions.
I harden my glare and grind my molars. “And I think we should get in the car and search for the man that killed my mother.”
She rakes her teeth over her bottom lip, nodding slowly. “Or…we could stay a while.”
Lust creeps up my throat, too thick and sweet to swallow. I know what she wants; it’s written all over those perfect fucking features. Despite my brain’s protests, my cock tingles for her to say it.
Her eyes land on the church. “Confessing is great and all, but uh… I thought that, while we’re here…perhaps I could atone for my sins again.”
“Perhaps you could. How do you plan on doing that?”
She matches my indifference. “With a little help from you.”
Jesus Christ and all his fucking Disciples. My eyes damn near roll back in my head at her confidence. It’s the hottest trait I’ve ever seen in a woman, especially when it’s so unexpected.
I pin her with a blistering stare, trying to keep my eyes trained on hers, and not her tits as she arches her back and pushes them against her baggy hoodie. What I need to do is remind her that’s crossing the line. You know, the one I reinforced yesterday with warning signs and barbed wire.
But I’m only a man, for fuck’s sake.
I clear my throat. Run my tongue over my teeth. “I see. Well, what sins have you committed since Saturday?”
She stills, her eyes darting to the side. “Uh…”
“Like I thought,” I drawl, amusement rising inside of me. “No sins, no spankings, Aurora.” Sucking in a lungful of air, I feel my resolve finally shift into gear. All I need to do is get this girl back in my car where she can’t look at me like that. “Good girls don’t get spanked.”
Her eyes glitter with something dark and dangerous. It’s the same something I saw in her the night she touched herself for me. She pauses, then without warning pushes herself off the hood of the car and slides her hand into the pocket of my slacks.
My blood runs cold, because all the warmth in my body suddenly runs to my dick. Holy shit. Her fingers are hot, grazing a delicate trail down my thigh, before brushing over the length of my cock, which is now rock-hard. Her confidence falters for a second, and I only catch it because I can’t take my eyes off her.
“Oops,” she says, a coy grin playing on her lips. “That’s not what I was looking for.”
I bite my tongue, staying still and silent, like my heart isn’t slamming against my rib cage, and I’m not fighting an animal instinct to grip her by the nape of her neck and wipe that smirk off her face.
When she removes her hand from my slacks, something silver glints in her hands. My eyes drop to her fist as she holds it up, triumphant.
My car key.
“You’re right,” she rasps. “No sin, no spanking. I suppose I better commit one then.” Widening her eyes, she pulls a face that would get her fast-tracked to Heaven if God had a weak spot for doe-eyed blonds. “Just a little one.”
I catch the tail end of her smirk as she slips between me and the hood of my car and walks to the passenger side door.
My eyes flick between the key in her hand and the matte black bodywork of my Aston Martin. For some reason, they are just mere inches from each other.
My gaze darkens. “You’d be out of your damn mind.”
She bites her lip and looks up at me, expectantly. “This is a sin, though, right?” she whispers. “One that’d earn me a spanking?”
My jaw locks, and by my side, my fists curl so tight my knuckles pop. “I think you have me confused with someone who you can fuck around with, Aurora,” I growl.
“Okay.” She pauses. “I won’t key your car, and you can spank me anyway. How about that?”
“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
“Well then. Oops,” she says again. Only this time, her chirp is accompanied by a scraping sound. Heat rises to my brain and down the length of my dick, making the blood in both of my heads boil. Fuck, she’s annoying. Fuck, she’s hot.
I take a step toward her. She takes one back.
“Come here.”
She shakes her head and her brows shoot up to her hairline.
“Make me ask again, Aurora. I dare you.”
Before she can reply, I grab her by the wrist, pull her back to the hood of my car and slam her face-down on the bonnet. With an animalistic growl brewing inside my rib cage, I pin her legs against the bumper with my thighs and hook my thumbs into her waistband.
And then I pull.
She freezes. “What are you doing?!”
“Giving you what you wanted.”
“W—what?” She twists her head around in protest, but I wind my fist into her curls and push her back down on the hood, so her cheek is laying flush against it. “I don’t want it here Angelo—”
“Shut up,” I snarl, roughly yanking her leggings and panties down to her knees. My molars grind at the sight of her perfect peach ass, her pink slit poking out from underneath it. Christ. The faint red marks from where I decorated her with my belt on Saturday are still showing.
“Someone will see,” she squeals, her cold breath creating clouds of condensation against my paintwork. “I—”
Before she can finish her sentence, I yank the silk pocket square from my top pocket, ball it into a tight fist, and muffle the rest of her sentence by stuffing it into her mouth. She stills for a beat, before her panting starts again, heavier and hotter than before.
I lean over her, grazing my lips against her ear. Pressing the rock-hard bulge in my slacks against the crack of her ass. My fingers press into the side of her neck. Christ, such smooth, silky skin that begs to be bruised.
“You want to act like an animal, you’ll be gagged like one.”
Still pinning her to the car with my chest, I reach down and unbuckle my belt. Rip it out of the loops and coil it by my side.
She’s breathing heavy and so am I. My skin is lit up like a live wire, burning with a dangerous cocktail made of equal parts of rage and lust. Adrenaline hums just under the surface, and I know that my viciousness, in all of its hot, itchy glory, is about to be released onto Rory’s perfect ass.
This time, I can’t promise I won’t touch her. But what I can promise is that this time, I’ll last a lot more than three strikes.
