Chapter 7 Liana #2
"Calm down, I'm in control." His knuckles are tight on the steering wheel.
"I don't care if you're in control, you're going way over the speed limit!"
"Who cares? No cops around." He weaves around another car.
"That's not the point!"
Smooth, confident, terrifying. My heart is pounding now. Actually pounding. I'm getting scared for real now.
"Please slow down," I say, my voice shaking.
"You're overreacting."
"I'm not. You're driving like a maniac!"
We hit a red light. He doesn't stop until the last possible second, braking hard. I lurch forward against my seatbelt.
"Jesus Christ! Cut it out!" I brace myself against the dashboard.
"What? I stopped." He shrugs like it's nothing.
"You almost ran the light!"
"But I didn't." The light turns green and he accelerates hard. The force pushes me back against the seat.
"Stop it!" My voice is getting higher. Panicked. "Stop driving like this! You’re being an asshole!"
"I'm not doing anything wrong." He changes lanes aggressively.
"You're speeding! You're weaving! You're—"
He cuts off another car to change lanes. The driver honks. Long and loud.
"See? Even they think you're driving crazy!" I point behind us.
"They're just slow." He dismisses it entirely.
"Everyone is slow to you!"
"Because everyone drives like they're scared." He takes another turn fast.
"Maybe they're smart!"
We're in a part of town I don't recognize now. Darker. Fewer streetlights. The buildings look run-down. And he's still going too fast.
"Where are we?" I ask, looking around nervously.
"Shortcut."
"Through this neighborhood?"
"Santino, please. Please slow down." I'm begging now.
"Liana, you need to relax. I drive like this all the time." He finally glances at me.
"That doesn't make it better!"
He takes another turn fast. The tires squeal again. I know he’s doing it to scare me and something in me snaps.
"Stop the damn car!" I shout.
"What?" He looks at me like I'm crazy.
"Stop this car! Right now!"
"Liana—" He starts to argue.
"I said stop! Goddammit!"
He doesn't stop. Just glances at me like he’s surprised I’m cursing.
I do the only thing that makes sense in this moment. I grab the door handle to get out of his damn car. I’m not staying in this car with him another second.
"Liana, what are you—" His eyes go wide.
I pull the handle. The door opens and wind rushes in.
"Liana! For fuck’s sake!" He slams on the brakes.
The car is still moving, but I don't care.
I jump.
I hit the pavement hard, get up and start moving, stumbling in my heels but staying upright. Behind me, I hear the screech of tires as he stops completely.
"What the fuck are you doing!" His voice is furious and panicked.
I don't look back. Just start walking fast down this street I don't know, in this neighborhood that looks increasingly sketchy, in a dress and heels.
"Liana! Get back here!"
I hear his car door slam. He's out of the car now, his running footsteps behind me.
I walk faster.
"Liana, stop!" He catches up to me easily. Grabs my arm and spins me around.
"Don't touch me!" I jerk away from him.
"You jumped out of a moving car!" His face is a mix of fury and shock. "Are you fucking insane?"
"I asked you to slow down!" I'm shaking now, adrenaline and fear mixing.
"I wasn’t going that fast!" He runs his hand through his hair.
"You were weaving through traffic! You almost ran a red light!" My voice is rising.
"I had complete control!"
"I didn't feel safe with you!" I step back, my heart still pounding.
We're standing in the middle of a dark street. A streetlight flickers above us. Somewhere nearby, I hear glass breaking. This is not a good neighborhood.
"Get back in the car," he says.
"No."
"Liana—"
"I'm not getting back in that car with you driving like that. I’ll call someone to come pick me up."
"You jumped out of a moving vehicle!"
"Because you wouldn't listen to me!"
A man appears from a side street. He sees us and starts walking toward us. Santino notices and his entire demeanor changes. He steps closer to me, positioning himself between me and the approaching man.
"Get in the car," he says quietly. "Now."
The man is closer now, his eyes are on me. On my dress and my heels.
"Liana." Santino's voice is urgent. "Go get in the car. Stay behind me."
The man calls out something. I don't catch the words, but the tone is clear.
Santino's hand goes inside his jacket where he probably keeps a gun.
"Now, Liana. Hurry."
I look at the man. At the dark street. At the broken windows and the shadows. Then at Santino and see the cold look in his eyes.
I turn and hurry back to the car. He's around to his side in seconds. Locks the doors the moment he's in. Pulls away fast, but this time I don't complain.
We drive in complete silence.
He's gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. I can see a muscle ticking in his cheek.
I stare out the window, my heart still pounding. Soon we're out of that sketchy neighborhood and back on familiar streets. He suddenly pulls into a store parking lot. It's late, the lot is empty, just a few scattered cars under dim lights.
He puts the car in park and kills the engine. The silence is deafening.
Finally, he speaks. "Don't ever do that again."
"Then don't drive like a maniac." I'm still looking out the window.
"I wasn't—" He stops and blows out a breath. "You could have been killed."
"We both could've been killed with your driving." I turn to face him now.
"Jesus Christ, Liana! Would you stop?" He's looking at me now, and his eyes are blazing. "You jumped out of a moving car! You hit the pavement hard then got up and started running. Who does shit like that? You fell into the middle of the damn road."
"I do because you wouldn't listen to me!"
"I was listening! You were overreacting!"
"I was scared!" The words burst out before I can stop them. Raw and honest.
He freezes and stares at me.
"I was scared," I repeat, quieter now. "And you dismissed me. You made me feel like I was being ridiculous when I was genuinely terrified."
Something shifts in his expression. The anger doesn't disappear, but it's joined by something else. Guilt, maybe. Or understanding.
"Why didn’t you say that?"
"I did! I asked you to slow down a dozen times!"
"You criticized my driving. You didn't say you were scared."
"I shouldn't have to explain that when someone is begging you to slow down, they're scared!" My voice is rising again. "What did you think was happening?"
"I thought you were being controlling! Trying to tell me how to drive!"
"I was trying not to die!"
"I wouldn’t let you die!"
"How was I supposed to know that?"
"You're impossible," he says, running a hand through his dark hair.
"And you're reckless," I shoot back.
"You drive me insane."
"That makes two of us then!"
We're staring at each other. His eyes are dark, intense. My pulse is racing, but it's not from fear anymore. It's from him. From the way he's looking at me. From how close we are in this small space. And then suddenly without warning, he leans across the seat and kisses me.
It's not gentle. It's not sweet. It's angry and frustrated and desperate and everything we've been dancing around.
His mouth is hot on mine, demanding. His hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair. I can't breathe. Can't think. Can only feel.
I kiss him back just as hard. All my anger, my fear, my confusion pouring into it. My hands find his shirt, fisting in the fabric, pulling him closer. He makes a sound low in his throat. His other hand finds my waist, gripping tight.
This is a mistake. This is a terrible mistake.
But I don't care.
His tongue sweeps across my lower lip and I open for him. The kiss deepens and intensifies. I've never been kissed like this. Like I'm something he needs. Something he's been denying himself.
My back hits the passenger door. I didn't even realize I'd been moving. Or that he'd been moving. But now he's leaning over the console, crowding me against the door, and his body is over mine, solid and overwhelming.
His hand slides from my waist to my hip. Higher. His thumb brushes the underside of my breast and I gasp against his mouth.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes are almost black. His breathing is as ragged as mine.
The parking lot is empty except for us, the glow of the streetlights casting long shadows across the asphalt.
His thumb moves again, this time deliberately, tracing the curve of my breast through the thin fabric of my dress.
I should stop him. I should push him away.
But my body arches into his touch, betraying every thought I’ve ever had about self-control.
“You’re infuriating,” he growls, his voice rough, his breath hot against my lips. “You drive me out of my fucking mind.”
“Then stop,” I whisper, but it’s not a protest. “If you don’t like it.” It’s a dare.
His mouth crashes back onto mine, harder this time, his teeth nipping at my lower lip.
I moan, the sound swallowed by his kiss.
His hand slides up, his palm cupping my breast, his thumb flicking over my nipple through the fabric.
I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.
He groans, his hips pressing forward, pinning me against the door.
I can feel him—hard, insistent—through his pants, and it sends a jolt of heat straight between my thighs.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against my neck, his lips trailing down to the sensitive skin just below my ear. His teeth graze my pulse point, and I shudder.
I don’t.
Instead, my hands slide down his chest, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.
I need to touch him. Need to feel his skin under my hands.
He lets me, his breath hitching as I push the fabric aside, my palms flattening against the hard planes of his chest. His skin is hot, his heart pounding under my touch.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. His hand pulls my dress off one shoulder and slips underneath, his thumb brushing over my nipple again. This time with nothing between us. I whimper, my head falling back against the window.
“You’re so damn stubborn,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “But God, you feel good in my hands.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My breath is coming in short, sharp gasps as his mouth finds mine again, his kiss slower now, deeper.
“Tell me you want this,” he demands, his voice rough, his eyes burning into mine.
I should lie. I should push him away. But the truth spills out before I can stop it.
“I do.”
His mouth is on mine again, swallowing my words, his hand sliding lower, under the hem of my dress. I gasp, my hips lifting off the seat, my body aching for more.
I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can only feel the heat of his body, the rough slide of his fingers, the way his mouth claims mine like he’s starving for me. The world outside the car doesn’t exist. There’s only this. Only him.
And then his damn phone rings.
The sound is jarring, a sharp intrusion into the haze of desire. He freezes, his forehead resting against mine, his breath ragged. The phone rings again.
“Ignore it,” I whisper, my voice barely a sound.
He hesitates, his eyes searching mine. Then, with a curse, he pulls back. “Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair again. He reaches for his phone.
I sit back, my chest rising and falling, my body still humming with need. The air between us is thick with what just happened, with what we almost did. With what we still might.
If my plan doesn’t work.
He glances at the screen, then back at me. “It’s work,” he says, his voice rough. “I have to take it. It’s Bruno.”
I nod, my lips still swollen from his kisses, my body still throbbing.
He steps out of the car to take the call while I rearrange my dress. A few minutes later, he slides back into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.
“Sorry about that,” he says, back in control now. “I need to take care of something that won’t wait.”
I nod. “I understand.”
We pull out of the parking lot. This time, he drives carefully. Every turn is gentle. Every stop is gradual. He doesn't speak. Neither do I. But I can feel the tension in the car. Different from before. Not anger or frustration this time. It’s want and confusion.
When we pull up to my house, he puts the car in park but doesn't look at me. He doesn’t move to kiss me again or even to go around to open my car door.
"Goodnight, Liana."
"Goodnight."
I get out on shaky legs and walk to my door. When I turn around to look back, he’s watching me.
Gia is waiting for me inside. She takes one look at my face. "What happened?"
"I jumped out of his car while it was moving."
"You what?"
"He was driving too fast. I asked him to slow down. He didn't. So, I jumped out." I kick off my heels. "In a bad neighborhood. He was scaring the shit out of me."
"Liana!"
"I'm fine. Don’t worry." But my lips are still tingling. My body is still humming. "He was so furious with me that he kissed me."
Gia's mouth falls open. “When?”
"In a parking lot afterwards. We fought and then he kissed me and I kissed him back and..." I trail off. "It was an impulsive kiss. It was a mistake."
"Was it?"
"Of course, it was." I head for the stairs. "Because if it wasn't a mistake, then everything else is."
In my room, I change into pajamas and lie down, staring at the ceiling. My lips still taste like him. My skin still feels like his hands are on it. Over a month left to go.
Why do I feel like everything just changed?