Chapter 17
It made sense why they chose this area for a street race.
It didn’t seem unusual here for people to exceed the speed limit at two in the morning.
Businesses along the road were spaced out, with no neighborhoods in sight.
Good thing because, with the flashing lights, the number of people, and the volume of their music, the partygoers weren’t exactly subtle.
Someone whistled. “Hey, sexy, you lookin’ for me?”
“Nope.” I walked past the group of four in oversized clothing, each drinking from a can of beer and spray-painting grotesque graffiti on concrete wheel stoppers.
“Come on. We’ll show you a good time.”
“Not interested.”
For an organized event, there weren’t more than nineteen cars surrounded by racers and spectators, squealing around in donuts, making slow show-off passes, or revving parked engines.
The weather was a little chilly, yet some women wore hotpants, with or without tights underneath, their tops cropped, and nipples peaking through.
As a few leaned over cars and showed off their assets, I shook my head, thankful to have decided to wear pants. The groupie look was not my aim.
Empty beer cans and jugs with varying levels of colorful liquid littered the lot. I crunched a can underfoot as I navigated around the clusters of people, looking for my target. A cacophony of different songs thumped from every few cars.
Finally, I found him by his copper-red hair.
In a black T-shirt, bomber jacket, and jeans that made me want to take a bite out of his thighs, he sat on the hood of an Audi RS6 Avant on the outskirts of the crowd.
The car stuck out like a sore thumb among the modified American-branded vehicles and a few Japanese makes.
And yet, aside from one woman in scraps of clothing, contorting herself for his attention, he was alone.
“Scram,” I told the girl standing at his side, practically humping him.
A dash of recognition lit his eyes before they slipped back into stoicism, as if he couldn’t be bothered to care more.
“Bitch, I was here first. How about you go back where you came from?”
“Oh, ma chère, this bitch will happily play firsts with you.” I leaned into her ear, playing heavily with my French accent, and twirled a finger into her hair.
I tugged her head down hard, enjoying her little whine.
“How about this? I’ll be the first to punch out your teeth if you don’t leave. How does that sound?”
My sweet, crazed stare was one I’d practiced in a mirror since I first understood what my father did for work.
The principle was simple: Show people you’re crazy, and most will retreat.
Sane people didn’t deal with what could put their health at risk.
This lady didn’t stand a chance. Her eyes dropped faster than bills at a strip club, and she huffed away, with a shoulder check.
Amused, I took her place, resting my butt against the hood of his car.
“Doesn’t seem like your scene. Little young for you, no?”
He gave barely a blink from his deadpan stare. It stung after our week of meet-cutes, but I buried that shit deep.
“With a car like this, it’s amazing you couldn’t attract anyone better than that.”
Cillian raised a cigarette to his lips. The tip flared red. “Perhaps that should be your hint.”
“I like danger. I was molded by it.”
“Do you know what I did to the last person who harassed me?”
Cute. Was that what we were calling this? “Do you know what I did to the last man who rejected me?”
“Don’t know how to take a no?”
“In our lines of business, do any of us?”
He scoffed. “You’ve got a response for everything.”
“If you were expecting me to simper and bat my eyelashes, you’ll definitely be disappointed.
May I?” I pointed to his cigarette, and he handed it over.
That was progress. Smothering a smile, I pulled in a deep inhale and let the smoke dance in my mouth before blowing out a misshapen smoke ring.
“You called me do síbhean, remember? I would not be a very good fairy to you if I didn’t prey on your emotions. ”
“You know Gaelic?”
“I’m excellent with languages.”
“That so? And if I were to say téigh ag feadaíl?” Get lost.
“I’d say too bad. You’re stuck with me.”
He hummed in mild approval. It was better than the emotionless, hard face he usually wore. It brightened his eyes just a little.
A shadow crept closer to his car. Erel. I turned to face Cillian, pressing my hip into the car. His focus needed to be solely on me so that Erel could work his magic.
“Tell me why you didn’t take down the camera.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re testing my patience.”
“Maybe, but you’re not sure you dislike it, are you?” I leaned into him. “I know you look for me in crowds, wondering where I’ll pop up. Admit it. You like it. You like me.”
He tapped the ash off his cigarette, but when he pivoted my way, I swung my leg around, hooking his thigh between my legs. My finger traced his chin. His beard was not as bristly to the touch as it looked.
At a glance around him, Erel had managed to slip into the car. Good.
“I know you like me pushing your limits.”
His empty hand cupped my waist. “Why stalk me?”
My chest clenched at his easy dismissal of my words, but I tossed my hair to mask any flash of disappointment on my face.
“Don’t you like the excitement that comes with doing something you shouldn’t do?” My hands crept up his firm chest, and his pecs tensed. “I do.”
“I don’t doubt that.” His voice pitched low.
Those blue eyes of his, dark in the night, tightened. There was a sadness in them that had no place on a man as hard as him, and it made me yearn to replace it with passion and eagerness instead.
If either one of us made the effort to lean in further, our lips would touch. He didn’t push me away, so my hand glided up his neck to the back of his head. My nails scratched along his skull, and he grunted, a molten fire growing in his gaze.
“It makes me feel in control and powerful. Just like this does.” I yanked him forward, and our mouths crashed together.
Except his lips were stiff and unmovable, not a single response to the way mine moved over his, nothing like the force of nature that possessed him days ago.
For five whole seconds, I held out like that.
Then mortification hit hard. I froze, our lips still touching.
After that kiss dripping with passion we shared, this should have been a cakewalk in seduction.
My eyes opened to find him glaring at me with a ferocity that sent tremors down my spine.
Instead of shying away, I returned his stare.
I couldn’t back down now. This had gone too far.
It would have been less embarrassing if he’d shoved me away, instead of clearly demonstrating how unaffected he was. How much he didn’t want me.
Another ten seconds, and my stubbornness melted into discomfort. Five more, and I was ready for this farce to end. I caught sight of Erel’s black outline leaving the vehicle. He disappeared into the woods to wait for me as planned.
Enough of this. I bit his lip. The taste of copper filled my mouth. Satisfied I wasn’t losing our standoff, I pulled back.
Or tried to. He grasped the back of my neck, and his mouth fell on mine.
This time, he wasn’t a statue. He ravished my lips and bruised them with the vigor of his kiss.
He drove his tongue forward, forcing my mouth to part.
He nipped and tugged at my lips. He bit my tongue, and his fingers dug into my nape.
With each second, he demanded more, pressing harder, and I gave as good as I got.
This was the heat I remembered between us, and it scorched.
Every bit of anger I’d felt over his abandonment and dismissiveness rushed into that kiss.
All my repressed feelings of being overlooked—by him, by my family—I poured into it.
All the frustration and exhaustion at needing to be perfect came out with an aggression I didn’t know I possessed.
My nails swept up and down his back in deep arcs.
My teeth took every opportunity to grasp onto him.
And my body, it forced him back against the hood of his car, the press of him between my legs giving me power beyond my wildest dreams, because he was hard as a rock, for me. Just me, and that was a heady thing.
His hand squeezed my waist, drawing me closer, before dropping down to my ass. He groped it, just as hard as he kissed, making the seam of my pants press against my clit. I moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed it.
Loud cheering and whistling erupted around us.
I pried myself free from him and took a breath of fresh air, patting my flushed cheeks with the backs of my hands.
We both heaved against each other. His lips glistened dark red, blood staining the corner of his mouth.
His eyes gleamed with an emotion I couldn’t quite place, something that both excited me and had me shivering.
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he said darkly.
“That’s…a weird thing to say after kissing someone.”
He dragged me forward and buried his head in the crook of my neck.
His hot breath puffed against my throat.
His head settled against my shoulder, and his arms squeezed me tighter to him with each inhale.
Suddenly, I felt like I was the prey, not the hunter, and I’d been caught in my own trap.
I shoved at his shoulders and scratched at his arms to be free.
“This is what you wanted,” he taunted, holding me tighter.
“On my terms.”
“No, mo síbhean, always on mine.” His teeth met the muscle above my clavicle, and he bit down hard enough I thought he’d tear the skin if I moved. I ground my teeth together, strangling a cry in my throat, until he finally released me. “To remember tonight by.”
The moment he let go of me, my fist flew at him. It connected with his jaw, and his head swung to the side.
“Go ahead and remember that, connard de première.” First class prick.
I expected violence to shine through his eyes when he turned back to face me, and I went on guard, fists up. Instead, he smirked, massaging his jaw.
“Not too shabby a hit. You’re full of surprises. Good stance too. Wrong shoes though.”
“What are you—”
He locked his foot behind my ankles and swept my feet out from under me. Gasping, I wrapped an arm around his neck to stop the fall, but he also cinched me tighter to him, his body angled over mine like a man dipping his lover.
“Now I have you at a disadvantage.”
My cheeks warmed. “Maybe this is what I wanted.”
“What?”
“To make you think you’re in control.”
“Aren’t I?” His hand wrapped around the front of my neck and squeezed, not enough to cut off my air, but enough to say he was the dominant party. In his dreams. “I could kill you right now, and nobody would bat an eye.”
“Or you could show me a good time. Without your teeth, of course.”
His lips parted, and his eyes screwed up. “Aye, you’re as mad as a box of frogs, but then I should have guessed that already.”
“You like it.”
He grunted. “Well, you wanted my attention. You have it. Now the question is, what are you going to do with it?”
“Simple. I’m going to wrap you around my little finger.”
“Unlikely.”
“We can bet on it.” I winked at him. “I’ll either be the best thing that will ever happen to you or the devil who will drag you down. Which do you think it will be?”
The rumble of engines and cheering cut through his mysterious and deadly focus.
A sudden influx of burnt rubber and gasoline fumes collided with the sharp reek of burnt oil.
I fanned my face. A few cars ambled down the lot toward the main street.
Spectators drummed on the hoods and roofs as they passed, the ruckus competing with those revving their cars.
With this noise, it was just a matter of time before the cops showed up.
I patted his shirt. “You better get ready and get out there.”
His eyes dipped to my mouth, with a look that was not quite contempt, not really desire…
more like an odd fascination. It reminded me how art aficionados viewed a particularly moving painting in a gallery, like it spoke to them, and they needed to catch their fill before they were forced to move on to the next.
“What do you see when you look at me?” I dared to ask.
His silence was striking against the cheering and vroom of engines, and it pummeled my stubbornly sensitive heart. The stupid thing needed another reminder of what kind of man the closed-off prick I married was.
“That bad, huh?”
I was deluding myself with this charade.
Every effort for his attention felt like shoving a boulder up a hill with a sprained ankle.
Exhausting and so much painful effort, for little to no reward.
It wasn’t worth that kiss, no matter how spellbinding it had been, because tonight, despite all the effort I’d put in up until now, I felt myself slipping.
It was time to go and regroup before I failed, and I never failed. It just wasn’t in my DNA.
I dropped my weight, making his grip slacken, and twisted my body to the side while hooking my opposite arm over his. It broke his hold completely, and when he reached for me again, I jabbed a fist at his ribs. I made the rules of this game. Not him.
“Not tonight, mari chéri.” Husband dearest. I blew him a kiss, backing away from him and the car.
“Not got the guts to see this through, sweetheart?”
“Don’t care enough to.”
That got me a laugh, deep and throaty, unnaturally so. He crossed his arms, that impenetrable stare fixed solely on my retreating steps.
“I never got your name.”
“I never gave it.”
“Didn’t peg you as a tease.”
I shrugged against the menace in his voice. “Yes, you did.”
He pushed off his car, but instead of coming after me, he walked to his car door. And that was when I booked it. I crossed the lot with hurried steps toward the grassy area beyond the asphalt.
He’d be even less thrilled in a few short seconds when he discovered the delightful change Erel made to his car interior.
When his reaction came, it wasn’t the explosive anger I expected, or even the evil cackle I’d hoped would expose some shred of humor in him. Instead, it was a ruthless laugh, restrained in volume but oppressive, seeping into the tension in my shoulders.
“You can run, but you can’t hide,” he yelled.
His words followed me into the darkness of the wooded, grassy area, beyond the energy of the party-going. There, I felt like I could finally catch my breath, and I wondered for the first time whether I’d been better off before knowing him at all.