“You’re right,” she says to Lo. “The f-word is a bit abrasive.” She tilts her head at me. “How about ‘we just had sex’ messy?”
Lo shakes his head a couple times, puts on headphones and balls his sweatshirt in the corner of the door. “Wake me up when you stop flirting with a guy seven years older than you. It’s disgusting.”
Her smile fades.
I love Lo, but he can be a real fucking asshole.
Connor stays quiet, concentrating on driving, and I take the opportunity to cheer up Daisy. I grab her waist and set her between my open legs. The surprise causes her to smile again, and I slip one hand beneath her shirt, rubbing her back while I massage her shoulder with the other.
Her tense muscles can’t loosen with me this close. The more I knead my fingers into her shoulder and skim her back with my palm, the more she stiffens and holds onto my kneecaps for support.
She purposefully scoots her ass harder into my crotch. Fuck me.
I remove my hand from beneath her shirt and comb my fingers through her hair. “I like your hair down because of how wild you look, but you could do anything to it and I would still love it.” I want her to choose the length and color based on what she wants. Her mom and agency have dictated her appearance so much. I’m not fucking replacing them.
She spins around, my hands falling off her shoulders. And in effect, she half-straddles my lap. Her ass is on the edge of the seat, not on me.
“Can I have your knife?” she asks.
I stare down at her and cup her face, brushing my thumb along her smooth cheek. “What knife?”
She reaches towards my ankle, and I grab her wrist to stop her. A smile plays at her lips, mischievousness dancing in her eyes. “The knife you used to wear to bed,” she whispers in a silky voice.
I’m wearing that knife now, but I stopped strapping it to my ankle at night because I thought it would lessen her anxiety—for her to see that I wasn’t worried about someone breaking into her apartment anymore. “Don’t talk about my knife, Calloway,” I deadpan.
She eases forward, straddling my lap. “I like your knife.”
She’s a wicked fucking girl. There’s a reason why guys haven’t been able to last with her. In bed, she probably won’t lie still while a guy dominates her. She doesn’t beg to be in full control either. She wants to be a part of the experience, so when I fuck her, she’s going to fuck me with equal intensity. It’s a back and forth between us that I didn’t expect to translate to sex, but I already know it will.
My gaze hardens, giving her a look that intimidates most women. Instead her eyes brighten, hypnotized by the darkness inside of me. The I don’t give a fuck what you think mentality scares some people, but it attracts her. It always has.
She breathes deeply and runs her hand through my hair before her lips touch my ear, “You’re my wolf.” Her hands fall to the back of my neck, watching me watch her.
“Cute,” I say.
“The cutest?” She smiles.
I shake my head, lean forward, and whisper in her ear, “The cutest is you, wrapped in my arms, coming three or four times before you fall asleep.”
Her fingers grip my neck tighter. “I can barely come once,” she whispers.
My eyebrows shoot up. “You came pretty fucking quickly with me,” I breathe. She stares at my lips while I reach down in my boot and pull out my serrated knife.
I hand it to her, and she touches the point of the blade to her finger, not drawing blood but just inspecting the sharpness.
“It can cut through hair,” I assure her.
She still scrutinizes the blade with a faraway look. Then she says under her breath, “I’ve never had sex with a guy like that.”
I frown. “With someone holding you?”
She nods. “Usually they have their head on a pillow, watching me while I’m on top.”
That really fucking bugs me, and the irritation passes through my features.
“I shouldn’t have brought up other guys I was with. I know it’s like a relationship faux pas.” She slides off my lap and steals back her hairband from my wrist.
“I’m not upset because you were talking about your past hook ups,” I tell her. I glance at the front of the car. My brother is fast asleep while Connor switches lanes, acting disinterested in everything. I don’t think he can hear us, and if he can, he’ll probably keep everything to himself. I look back at Daisy who ties her hair in a low pony.
“You looked pissed,” she says.