12. Skylar
CHAPTER 12
SKYLAR
I ’m starting to think nobody has ever taken the time to really know this man if something as small as knowing how he likes his steak shocks him.
What kind of losers has he been dating?
Never mind, I’ll make up for them. I’ll spoil this boy so thoroughly, he’ll never want to leave me. Their loss is my gain.
I am surprised he stayed after he realized it was me. He probably didn’t know I was bluffing. Alek would never give me his address, but Bones doesn’t know that, and it gets me what I want, which is him sitting opposite me, on a date.
He looks so fucking good, it’s distracting. I can’t look away, even as I eat my steak. I’m useless with all the knives and forks, but he makes it look like a work of art, reminding me he comes from money. He sits tall and confident, his manners impeccable. He can’t hide his smooth rich-boy upbringing even under that tattooed skin.
I love the difference.
“Did you always want to be a lawyer?” I ask.
“No, my father is one. I wanted to be anything but a lawyer growing up, partly to annoy him and partly so I would never be like him,” he answers, wiping his mouth with his napkin after he speaks.
“So why are you studying to be a lawyer? Is it because of him?” I ask, my eyes locked on his lips as he takes a sip of his whiskey.
“No, I want to be able to protect those I love, and this is the only way I know how,” he replies automatically and then seems to realize it. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he looks away for a moment. “Have you always wanted to be a racer?”
“No,” I admit truthfully. I will never lie to him, even if he doesn’t like the answers. “I never wanted to be anything growing up. I just wanted to be safe and not hungry. Racing kind of fell into my lap, and it made money, so I got good at it, but I didn’t enjoy it at first. Now I do. It’s part of me, and I couldn’t imagine my life without it. I live, sleep, and breathe racing and cars. When I’m behind the wheel, I feel unstoppable and invincible.”
It’s a feeling I can’t really describe, but I try. I have an inkling he’s never felt that free before.
“What made you start liking it?” he asks softly.
“It doesn’t matter who you are behind the wheel. It doesn’t matter where you come from or the money you have. You leave it all out on that road. Whoever crosses the finish line and wins is a better driver, and I like that. I like that it made us all equals.”
He watches me for a moment, his expression seeming to soften. “I didn’t expect that from you, but it makes sense. I can’t say I understand where you came from, but you seem to be doing well now.”
“It was hard for a long time,” I tell him as I lean back. I refuse to be ashamed of where I came from, and I have a feeling he won’t care. “I quickly realized the only person I could depend on to survive was myself. I either got up and did the work and made it happen or I faded away like everyone else on the streets.” I shrug. “It made me who I am today, and I’m not ashamed of that. What about you? What was it like growing up as a Townsend?”
“I’m ashamed of my past,” he answers after a pause, “of how I grew up with more money than sense. My father used it like a weapon against everyone, including me. You had to earn privilege in his eyes, earn the right to speak or be heard.” He takes a drink, glancing at the city. “Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if we never had money. Would it be easier? Better? Would he be the father I always wanted?”
I read between the lines, and my heart aches for what he has gone through.
When he glances back at me, he smiles bitterly. “Stupid to complain about that, right?”
“Not at all,” I reply. “Money changes people.”
“Not you.” He tilts his head, watching me. “I’ve seen the way you interact with people. You don’t act like anyone from my world, with money born or earned. You’re still kind and down to earth.”
“Are you complimenting me, baby?” I tease.
He rolls his eyes, but a small smile graces his lips. I don’t like that sad look in his eyes—not one bit. “I mean it. You didn’t let it change you.”
“I did and I didn’t,” I admit. “Money comes and goes, but experiences and people don’t. That’s what I think. Even if you have money, are you really living without passion or happiness? They always say money can’t buy happiness, but they are liars. It can, but it can only buy so much. It buys places and people but not their hearts, and it can’t buy genuine feelings or interactions.”
“Hence bringing me to the most expensive, exclusive restaurant?” he asks, his eyebrow arched.
I grin. “I wanted to show off a little and prove to you I could fit into your world.”
“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Don’t fit into my world.” I must frown because he bites his lip, playing with his glass. “I like that you aren’t a part of it. I like that you’re different. I hate my world, so don’t try to be a part of it, okay?”
“Okay,” I murmur, and he meets my gaze, electricity flowing between us before I grin. “Is that your way of saying you want me around?”
He groans, the moment broken, but I see the smile he tries to hide behind his glass. Two dimples appear in his cheeks, and I swear my soul leaves my body at the sight of them.
“You wish,” he responds as our plates are cleared away. I order him another drink. I don’t want him drunk, but I want him to enjoy himself.
Does he realize it’s been two hours? I don’t bring it up, scared he’ll leave.
“What do you want for dessert?” I ask.
“What, no ordering for me?” he retorts.
“I can guess, but I’d rather you get what you want so I can remember for next time,” I reply.
He rolls his eyes again, sitting back heavily. “There won’t be a next time, but I don’t really like dessert, only chocolate.”
“That’s because you’re too sweet without it,” I joke, making him roll his eyes again. Scanning the menu, I pick an indulgent chocolate cake and order it for him.
When it comes, he frowns and looks at my empty place setting. “You’re not having anything?”
“Nope, I just want to watch you.” I rest my chin in my hands and do just that.
“Creepy,” he snaps, but he picks up his fork and takes a bite. The groan he lets out makes me hard as hell.
“Good?” My voice is choked. He doesn’t even notice as he nods and takes another bite.
I brush my thumb over his lip. “You made a mess, beautiful,” I murmur, showing him the ganache on my thumb as I lean back and suck it clean, wishing it were his skin instead, but I can be patient.
For now.
I watch as he swallows, eyeing my thumb in my mouth.
“You’re right. It’s good. Delicious even,” I admit with a wicked smile.
He stabs another bite and hesitates before holding the fork out to me. I swear I want to scream in excitement, but I hold it back as I lean in and take the bite, using the excuse to hold his hand on the fork, my thumb stroking it as I reluctantly lean back and chew. He takes another bite, eating from the same fork.
We are basically kissing.
Licking my lips, I watch my boy eat, and when he’s done, he sits back, placing his hand on his stomach. “I ate way too much,” he complains.
“Need me to rub it for you?” I smirk.
He throws me a glare, but it holds less heat. I wish the night would keep going, but the peace appears to be coming to an end, and he seems to realize it at the same time. “It’s time for me to go.” He stands suddenly, thrusting his chair back.
My eyes widen as I blink in panic, and he throws me a contemplative look before turning and walking away. I hurry after him, paying as I go. He’s already gone, but I take the next elevator and catch him on the street, grabbing his arm and spinning him.
“Wait, how are you getting home?”
“Taxi,” he snaps, trying to tug from my grip, so I turn us and press him against the wall of the building. My arm rests against the brick to stop him from escaping. He sighs, eyeing me. We both know he could break from this if he wanted to.
“Let me drive you.” I grin as I inhale his addictive scent. This close, my boy is flawless. Does he look this pretty when he wakes up? I can’t wait to find out. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m an excellent driver.”
“No, thanks.” He ducks under me and hurries away.
Swearing, I grab my keys and rush around the building. Getting into my car, I rev the engine and speed onto the one-way street. His phone is out as he stands at the edge, looking both ways for a taxi. Smirking, I pull in front of him, ignoring the honks as I reach over and push the door open.
“Get in, beautiful,” I order.
He leans down, glaring at me. “Skylar,” he growls.
“I love the way you say my name. Get in, baby. I’ll behave, I promise. I’ll take you home and leave. I won’t even get out of the car, but I’m not leaving without your hot ass in my passenger seat.”
His jaw grinds as he debates his options before putting his phone away and climbing in. Grinning, I reach over and grab his belt. My eyes lock on his, our faces close enough to kiss. His pupils dilate and his lips part, and I debate kissing him, but the click of his belt jolts us back to the present. He turns away.
Grinning, I sit back and pull slowly into traffic.
I will not risk the angel in my passenger seat. I’ll drive more carefully than I ever fucking have.
“Which way, babe?” He’s quiet, and I lean over, my arm across the back of his seat. “Or I can take you to my house?—”
“It’s called Hellfire Apartments, Slaughter?—”
“I know the place,” I admit with a wide grin. I know it very well. In fact, I almost bought an apartment there before mine. His eyes narrow on me, but I don’t elaborate.
He sinks deeper into his seat, looking around my car. “Cold, beautiful?” I crank up the heat when I notice his hands tucking under his legs and turn on his seat warmer. I check on him to see him staring at me. “What?”
“You being nice is freaking me out.”
“Want me to wax poetically about how many times I’ve thought about fucking you in that seat?” I reply, and his grin is worthwhile.
“That’s more like you,” he comments as we zoom through downtown traffic and pull up at the private entry to Hellfire. The guard waves me on when she sees Bones in my passenger seat. I pull up at the reception area, and he goes to get out, but I lean over, covering his hand with mine.
“I had an amazing night. Thank you for coming.” I sincerely mean it.
“I had no choice.”
“I really enjoyed it,” I finish with a grin. “Next time we go on a date, baby, it will be because you want to.”
“Doubtful. Goodnight, Skylar.” He smirks as he gets out and, without another look, walks inside.
“Goodnight, beautiful,” I murmur as I watch him to make sure he gets in okay. When he’s out of sight, I grab my phone.
Opening my screen, I pull up my messages to my financial advisor and friend.
Skylar: If the apartment in Hellfire is still open, rent it for me. I’ll be moving in.
I kept my promise and behaved, but that doesn’t mean I will forever.