Chapter Four
Sidney
Hattie looks nervous as hell when she opens her door for me at six on the dot.
She also looks like a goddess in a retro black dress that bounces around her thighs.
The body of it molds to her curves, making sweat trickle down my back.
Her makeup is more natural than it was on Saturday, but her hair is still sleek and shiny.
She looks utterly fuckable.
"Jesus, butterfly," I rasp, swallowing hard. "You're going to have me in jail tonight if you're looking like that."
"What?" She startles slightly, smoothing her hands down her sides. Her gaze drops to her dress. "I…I didn't know what I should wear. Did I get it wrong?"
Shit. She thinks I was insulting her.
"Fuck no, you didn't get it wrong." I lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.
I can't help myself. I had a taste the other night, and it's all I've thought about since.
She smells like wildflowers and sunshine.
Who knew that could be so goddamn erotic?
I tip her head up, forcing her to meet my gaze so she knows I'm being truthful.
"You look beautiful, butterfly. I'm going to have to beat men off you with sticks. "
I already want to gouge eyes out, and we haven't even left her porch.
She beams at me, her smile all shy and sweet. I want to eat her up, just fucking spread her out and devour her. "You look pretty good yourself, Cranky Bear." Her gaze drifts down my body. "Fancy suit."
"It seemed appropriate. We're going to dinner and the ballet," I murmur.
"Really?" Her eyes widen. "I've never been to the ballet before."
"My sister is performing."
"That's so cool," she whispers.
I chuckle, shaking my head. Something about the way she just dives into everything like it's the best thing ever is as sexy as it is endearing. "You ready to go?"
"Yes. If you're sure I look okay."
"Hattie." I curve my hand around the side of her face, tipping her head back until her gaze tangles with mine. "You're perfect. Anyone who disagrees is a fucking idiot."
Her cheeks turn pink, her lips parting slightly.
I try like hell to hold it together. Really, I do. But that blush is right beneath my fingertips. I can feel the heat of it against my skin.
I groan softly, bending to brush my mouth across hers in a soft kiss.
I'm not sure if I'm more shocked when her tongue touches my bottom lip or if she is.
She gasps slightly, her body shuddering against mine. "I…I…"
"You're making it real hard to be good, Hattie baby," I groan, resting my forehead against hers. "You can't tease a man like that."
"I didn't mean to," she whispers, her voice shaking.
"I know." It's the only reason I don't have her plastered to the wall right now, grinding my dick against her hot little center until she gushes all over me.
That's what I want to do. I need to know what she feels like coming apart, what she sounds like, and how hard she likes it.
But she didn't even mean to kiss me. We aren't there yet, and I'm not going to rush it, not if the cost is everything.
Be soft, I remind myself before brushing my lips across hers again. I pull back slowly, loving the dazed look in her eyes. I love the way she looks at me even more.
"You kissed me," she says, pressing her fingertips to her lips.
"Yeah." I lock our fingers together and then reach for her front door, pulling it closed.
She doesn't say anything as I lead her out to the truck. She doesn't even say anything when I help lift her inside. Her door is an inch from shutting when she finally speaks.
"I think I liked it, Sidney," she whispers.
I groan, my heart in my throat.
"Soft," I mutter to myself once the door clicks. "Be soft."
I don't have the first fucking clue how.
"You really want to eat here?" Hattie asks, eyeing me sideways when I pull up outside the restaurant half an hour later. It's swanky, with valets rushing to park the line of overly expensive cars at the door.
"Why not?"
"It's fancy."
I smile at her tone, like the thought of a fancy restaurant is giving her hives.
I'm not entirely surprised, though. Most women would kill to be seen at a place like this.
I think Hattie would kill not to be seen here.
She doesn't want fame, fortune, or notoriety.
I think she just wants to be left the fuck alone.
Unfortunately, that's not in the cards tonight. I wasn't lying when I said we were laying the groundwork. I don't want her mother to have any reason to doubt that we're actually together. Hell will freeze over before I allow the woman to try to force some prick onto Hattie in my place.
I'll have us plastered all over the internet before we fly out to Aspen, just to ensure she knows Hattie is mine.
"That's the point," I remind her. "If we want to be seen, this is the place to do it."
"I have a better idea."
I glance over at her.
"Do you trust me?"
With that look on her face? Absolutely not. But I'll go along for whatever ride she's about to take me on. Fuck it.
"Of course."
"Then hit the gas, Cranky Bear. We're out of here."
I shake my head and then follow instructions, letting her guide me down one side road and then another until we pull up outside of a fast-food restaurant.
"Really, butterfly?" I glance over at her. "I offer you expensive steak, and you decline in favor of tacos and a slushie?"
"Trust me, Sidney," she says, her tone all pert and adorable.
I grunt, pulling into a spot in the crowded lot.
"Wait for me," I murmur when she reaches for her door handle.
She glances over at me and then nods, placing her hands in her lap.
I hop out, circling around to help her from the truck.
"You know, I wouldn't need help if this thing had steps," she says when I lift her out with my hands around her waist.
"Never needed them before now. No one else ever rides in my truck."
"Really?" She gapes at me. "No one?"
"No one."
"Not even your sister?"
"Especially not my sister," I chuckle. "Last time I drove with her in the car, we damn near died because she stressed me the fuck out."
"Sidney Hawkes," she says, grinning at me, "are you a control freak?"
"Hell, probably." I shrug, not denying it, because yeah, maybe I am. I like calling the shots and deciding what happens. I don't have the fucking patience to wait for someone else to make up their mind.
Her soft laugh is half-giggle, half-snort, one-hundred percent addictive.
"I'll order steps for the truck," I murmur, linking our fingers together.
"You don't have to do that."
I do, actually. As much as I love any excuse to touch her, she may have to drive the truck someday. She needs to be able to get in safely. I have a feeling she isn't ready to hear that, though, so I don't say it. I just grunt, striding toward the restaurant with her at my side.
As soon as we step through the doors, I feel like a fish in an aquarium. Everybody inside turns to stare at us. Judging by the jolt of excitement whipping through the place and the furious whispering, half of them recognize me.
"Hawkes!" someone shouts. "Yo! That's Sidney Hawkes!"
"Told you to trust me," Hattie says, grinning as we're mobbed by fifteen people with their phones out, all asking for photos and autographs.
I shoot her a dark glare, but she just smiles at me like this is the best day of her life.
She tries to slide out of the way when I pose for photos, but I shake my head at her and refuse to let her go.
I keep her right beside me the entire time I'm signing crumpled napkins, ensuring she's front and center.
"Enough," I growl at the crowd after a few minutes. "My girl is hungry."
They all step back immediately, making room for us to pass by.
Hattie practically skips to the counter at my side. "See? This is so much better than a fancy restaurant. I get tacos, and you get to make a scene. Win-win."
"The scene was for you, baby," I remind her.
"I know." She peeks up at me. "And we don't even have to wait an hour to eat."
Yeah, there's no way I'm going to be able to let this girl go. No way in hell.
Hattie is like a little kid as we make our way to the private box at the Lyric Opera House after dinner. She's full of tacos, a slushie, and ten thousand questions, and I don't think she's ever been happier. At least until we make it to the box level.
As soon as we step off the stairs, a blonde in a tight blue dress notices us. She looks me up and down like I'm a fucking steak. When she sees my hand linked with Hattie's, her expression turns sour.
"Cute dress," she sneers at my girl.
"Thanks! It has pockets," Hattie says, failing to clock her tone.
"Of course it does." The woman rolls her eyes, her disdain obvious before she looks at me again. "Are you her brother or something?"
Hattie shrinks in on herself before my eyes, her smile slipping, her shoulders curving. She tries to slip her hand from mine, but I hold it firm, refusing to let go.
I glower at the woman who made her shrink, my patience wearing thin. This chick knows damn well that I'm not Hattie's brother. She's just being catty.
"Move," I snap. "Right now."
"Excuse me?"
"I didn't stutter," I growl, slipping my arm around Hattie's waist. "My date and I want through, and you're in our way. Move."
"Your date?" She gapes like I'm speaking a foreign language.
"Yeah, date. As in, the only woman on the planet I'd ever let touch me," I snarl, stepping around her. "Come on, Hattie baby. Our box is up ahead."
Hattie hurries along at my side, not speaking. But every time we pass someone who even looks in our direction, she grows smaller.
I don't fucking like it. At all.
By the time we make it to my family's private box, I'm ready to strangle anyone who even breathes in her direction. Instead, I practically drag Hattie inside before slamming the door closed.
"Look at me, butterfly," I growl.
She avoids my gaze for a long moment before reluctantly peeking up at me.
"Do other women normally treat you that way?"
"I…"
"Don't lie to me."