I exhale, the smoke trading from my mouth to hers before swirling out between the crevices. She doesn’t kiss me, but remains suspended above me and allows the smallest of brushes.
Then, she’s retreating again, inhaling the cigarette once more. Back and forth, she twists it between us, periodically ashing through the cracked window. My hands never pause, though it only took moments before she began to tremble.
The air crackles around us, and it’s clear that I don’t need to set this car on fire when our chemistry is like dynamite and burns everything around us.
“Our mouths are touching the same spot,” she says shakily. “Does that count as kissing?”
“You tell me, little mouse. When I make you cry out for God, does that count as praying?”
Her bottom lip curls beneath her straight teeth, and a growl forms deep in my chest.
“If you’re showing me where to bite, I can assure you those sweet lips will only be the beginning.”
She doesn’t deign me a response right away and puffs on the cigarette again, then ashes it.
“Would you make me bleed?” she asks, her voice hoarse as the smoke swirls around us.
“If you ask me to,” I murmur. “I’d prefer to see you covered in my own blood, though.”
My answer seems to surprise her, so I take advantage and lean forward, brushing my lips across her jawline. She said I could touch her, but she never limited me to my hands.
“Whatever those men made you feel is not what I’m going to make you feel, little mouse. Whether your skin is between my teeth, beneath my blade, or under my tongue.”
She shivers, and I nip at her jaw to prove my point.
“It’s gone,” she rasps, pulling away, throwing the cigarette out the window, and rolling it up. “Don’t forget to pick that up.”
The tension deepens as I wait for her to open the door and slide from my lap. Sensing her turmoil, I slide my lips along her jaw and toward her mouth until they’re centimeters apart.
“You have until the smoke dissipates to kiss me,” I murmur.
Only a hairsbreadth of a pause passes before she’s crashing her lips onto mine. My hands dive into her hair, curling tightly as I devour her lips. She tastes sublime, and the feel of her tongue sliding against mine is intoxicating.
The world could fall to pieces around us, crumble to ashes as the cigarette did between our lips, and I wouldn’t notice.
Staccato pants and desperate moans blend between my teeth, and all I can think of is all the ways I could make this last forever.
As if hearing my thoughts, she rips herself away, nearly crashing into the steering wheel in her pursuit to get away. Her hair is scattered across her face, and she stares at me with wide, panicked eyes.
She's strung tight, and those strings are on the verge of snapping.
“Smoke is gone,” she whispers before opening the door and scrambling out, disappearing in a flash.
I grit my teeth and curl my hand into a tight fist, seconds away from sending it into the steering wheel.
Growling, I nearly kick open the door, grab the cigarette butt and throw it in the trash bag in my car, then slam the door shut behind me. Tension and anger build in my muscles, and rolling my neck does little to ease it.
Only my runaway mouse will, and deep down in that dark part of me, I hope she’s suffering from the loss of me as much as I am her.
Chapter 29
The Hunter
I cock my head to the side, staring at the running man with bewilderment.
“Why does he run like that?” I ask, genuinely concerned if Rick likes to peg himself with foreign objects. Maybe one got stuck because Jesus fucking Christ, who runs like that?
“That… that’s a good question,” Jay answers through my earpiece, sounding just as bemused as I am. He’s watching through the drone hovering over the awkwardly running dude.
We’ve been tracking Rick Boreman since he fled from Francesca’s house. He wasn’t hard to find despite his best efforts to stay hidden. I’m sure it hurt his shriveled little soul to have millions of dollars and not be able to fuck off to a tropical island with strippers and blow. Guess the dude hasn’t fried his brain with drugs so badly that he’s not aware of the massive target on his back.
One of two people responsible for abducting my girl, and that’s just not something I will take lightly.
I sigh, point my gun and shoot, the bullet hitting him in the back of the knee and sending him to the concrete with a sharp yelp.
“Fucking cocksucker!” he shouts, his voice breaking like a twelve-year-old boy. He even sounded like a kid who just learned to curse and does it every other word because he’s trying to be cool.