“Circumstances.”
“So you’ve never been in love.”
“No. Have you?”
She takes the offramp toward Parktown. “Nope, and I have no intention of ever falling into that trap.”
Her words are spoken bitterly. It’s another clue I file in the back of my mind. Whatever the reason for her cynical outlook, it’s part of what shaped her into the person she is.
“Did none of those women matter to you?” she asks, not quite succeeding in sounding indifferent.
“Like business partners, yes. Not like lovers.”
“That’s a strange way of looking at it,” she mumbles under her breath.
Pulling up to a food truck near the cricket stadium, she zips into a parking space. Instead of waiting for me to open her door, she gets out and strolls toward a man frying beef patties on a burner in the truck.
I catch up with her in a few long strides, stopping her with a hand on her arm. “Lock the car.”
She sighs but presses the button on the remote. The doors lock with a beep.
Brushing a curl behind her ear, I say, “Remember what I said? Never take risks with your safety.”
She pulls away. “What did you do with my car?”
“Does it matter?”
A scowl mars her pretty features. “Yes, it does. I bought that car with my own money.”
“Now you have a better one.”
“Which I didn’t earn.”
“You’re going to have to learn to accept receiving things if you’re to live with me.”
She carries on walking. “That’s the thing. I’m not going to live with you.”
I smile at her back, watching her as she goes up to the man and orders two burgers with all the trimmings.
She gives me a saccharine smile when I stop next to her. “My treat.”
“You didn’t ask if I have dislikes or allergies,” I remark with a teasing smile. “What if I’m a vegetarian?”
“My budget isn’t that sophisticated.”
I stare at her beautiful face. It takes everything I have and then some not to kiss her. “It’s not a question of money.”
“If you’re hinting at the fact that I have no manners or consideration, spare your breath. I’m already aware of the fact.”
Leaning an arm on the counter, I ask, “What made you so hard, Violet Starley? Will it be so bad to show your softer side for once?”
“That’s presuming I have a soft side,” she replies with sass.
“Are you challenging me to prove it?”
“Don’t throw yourself under the next car that passes in the street.” She cocks her hip. “I won’t save you.”
That does it. I never thought passive aggressive banter and semi-serious insults would turn me on, but when Violet is on the sparring end, it seems my libido knows no manners. Kissing her now is a bad idea. I’m a long way from winning her over. Yet as I look at her face, mesmerized by those fiery eyes and the cocky tilt of her full lips, I can’t help but think with my dick.
Her smile fades as I lean closer. Her lips part in a soundless expression of surprise as I wrap my fingers around her neck and reel her in. Her breasts press against my chest as I close my lips around hers, taking a moment to enjoy their plump softness before I part them with my tongue. Her gasp steals my breath. She pushes with her palms on my shoulders, but before she can escape, I grip her ass with both hands and pull her hard against me. Her breath catches differently this time. Her ass must still be smarting. It doesn’t stop me from palming her globes and lifting her slightly while bending my knees to align my cock with the soft center of her legs.
She surprises me by threading her fingers through my hair and pulling my head down for a firmer kiss. We’re rough, our teeth getting in the way and my groan being too loud. Last night, I didn’t forget where we were, not for one second. I kept my control. I would’ve been able to defend her if necessary. Even as I had my hand between her legs, I kept one eye on her bag where it was lying on the ground. Not so now. The surroundings fade away. I’m aware of nothing but the need to push her to the ground and rut like an animal.
A man clears his throat.
She freezes. As if suddenly remembering herself, she pushes away from me and adjusts her shirt.
I’m not letting her escape like that. She belongs to me. She’s mine to touch, no matter where we are and no matter who’s watching.
Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pull her close again and plant a kiss on her lips. “Does it still hurt?”
She bites her lip and gives a nod.
“Your order is ready,” the man says.
That’s what I call lousy timing.
Reluctantly, I set her free. When I reach for my wallet in my pocket, she lays a hand on my arm.