“Maybe you’re offering a lot.”
He shakes his head uh-uh. “And you have a look.”
“What look?”
His eyes travel my body. Slowly.
For a second, I forget we’re in a crowded car. That we have an audience. I feel nothing but his gaze. His breath. His heat.
Then the car jerks to a stop.
And one of the guys complains, “Hey, it’s my turn.”
“Go for it,” the other says.
“Daisy was it?” he asks.
“Yeah.” My gaze stays on Holden.
“Truth or dare?” he asks.
Both are scary in their own way. There are so many secrets I can’t share. I don’t want Holden looking at me differently. I love the way he looks at me.
He doesn’t think I’m broken.
He’s the only one who doesn’t think I’m broken.
No, that’s not true. No one at school knew. No one at work knows. But they don’t know me either.
Holden does.
The way he looks at me… It’s different. Better.
I need to keep it that beautiful and pure.
“Dare,” I say.
“Flash the next car,” he says.
“Fuck no.” Holden’s nostrils flare. He turns to the guy. Shakes his head. “She’s not doing that.”
“You her keeper or something?” The guy shakes his head what’s this guy’s problem?
Holden’s jaw cricks.
He’s so pissed. And jealous.
God, I’ve never seen him this jealous. Or this serious.
“Maybe just my bra,” I say.
He turns to me. “Daisy—”
“I want to.” I want him to watch. I want him to see. I want to keep pushing aside my inhibitions. To feel as free as he is all the time.
Most of all, I want him.
I wait for our car to speed. Then I roll my window down. Let the fresh air fill my nose, mouth, throat.
It’s warm outside. Humid. It’s not like August in Venice. The temperature isn’t dropping to something cool and comfortable.
It feels cooler with the sun gone, but it’s still balmy.
Warm enough for a dip.
Warm enough for this.
The front of our car aligns with the back of the car in the right lane.
I suck a deep breath through my teeth.
Close my eyes.
Repeat a mantra of confidence.
I can do this. I can do anything.
I’m beautiful and sexy and desirable.
I’m enough.
I’m spending tonight driving Holden crazy.
Even if I can’t have him.
At least I can have that.
I roll my dress down my chest.
A horn honks. A guy hoots. Yells something about going back to his place.
Holden’s arms slide around my waist. He pulls me into my seat. Almost all the way into his lap.
His fingers brush my shoulder. My collarbone. The lace of my bra.
Fuck, that feels good.
I need it everywhere.
I really do.
“Should we catch them, Daisy?” one of the guys asks. “We could invite them.”
“No, that’s okay.” I readjust my dress.
“It’s your turn now,” the guy says.
“Right.” I try to think of some way to use the game to my advantage. A dare for Holden. Kiss me, touch me, fuck me. A truth. Do you like me? Do you want me? Do you think about me when you touch yourself?
His eyes stay fixed on me.
Even as we pull off the main road. Into a neighborhood. A marina.
The car stops in front of a massive condo building.
“We’re here.” The guy in front gets out of the car. “You can take your dare upstairs.”
Holden’s tongue slides over his lips. It’s a quick thing. He barely notices.
He doesn’t say anything.
But he pulls me closer as we move into the lobby. As we step into the elevator.
As we ride to the penthouse floor.
He stays close enough to kiss me, touch me, fuck me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Holden
Daisy’s eyes go wide as we step into the apartment. It’s a massive space. The penthouse.
The opposite of the quaint Romantic Zone.
Gold fixtures. Lux couches. Booming music.
People everywhere.
A dozen gathered around a card table. A dozen at the bar. A dozen dancing.
A normal party. More or less.
If I was alone, I’d run inside, fix a drink, find a cute girl.
Hell, if I was with a different girl, I’d whisk her inside, pour her a drink, find a private spot to talk. Or to not talk.
The thought is already filling my head.
There’s a balcony.
Is it empty? Could I take her out there, roll her dress to her waist, marvel at her lacy pink bra?
My cock whines at the thought of her perky tits. How does she like to be touched? Soft and slow? Or hard and fast?
Does she even know?
Fuck, to be the person who helps her find out—
“Another drink?” one of the guys asks.
“Sure.” Daisy squeezes my hand. She looks back to me, asking something, but I’m not sure what it is.
Only that she trusts me.
That it matters.
But I’ve had too many fucking drinks. I can’t stop my eyes from traveling her body.
She’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful.
I need to make her come. To lay her on a bed, pull her panties to her knees—
“Your usual?” she asks.
“Yeah, sure.” Probably a bad idea, but I don’t really care at the moment.