Rolling my eyes, I take it from him, bringing the end to my lips without invitation, inhaling deeply. Amusement glints in his eyes as he shucks his black jacket off. Stepping closer, he takes my free hand, sliding the sleeve of his jacket down the length of my arm. A flurry of delicious tingles spreads along my skin at the feel of his callused fingers against mine. Forgetting how to breathe, I almost choke on the smoke filling my lungs and my mouth, and he chuckles, patting my back until I’ve composed myself.
“I keep forgetting how precious you are.”
His grin is smug in the extreme, and I shove him away, handing the joint back to him. “I’m not some prissy precious princess,” I declare, angrily thrusting my other arm into his jacket. I’m too cold to be stupidly proud in this moment. It feels warm, and it smells like him. “And I’ve told you to stop calling me that.”
“Why does it bug you so much?” He hollows his cheeks as he sucks in a long drag. “Your boyfriend calls you that or something?” A muscle ticks in his jaw as he drops down on his butt, pressing his back up against the tree.
Sitting down beside him, I tuck my knees into my chest. “I told you he isn’t my boyfriend anymore, and no. If you must know, my dad is the only one who calls me princess, and he says it in a much nicer way than you do.”
“I’m sorry,” he quietly says. “I know I’m being a dick. It’s my default setting.”
“I’m beginning to realize that.” I hold out my hand for the joint. Ash can drive us back to the city. “Hit me.”
He turns his head to the side, and his nose brushes against my cheek, igniting every nerve ending in that part of my face. His eyes probe mine, and I forget how to breathe again. It’s becoming a common, concerning problem in his presence. He stares deep into my eyes, and I could get lost in the mysterious depths of his soulful gaze. “You have the most stunning eyes,” he admits, his voice husky and threaded with raw sexiness. “You have these little gold and green flecks I’ve never seen before. They’re enchanting.” He leans in closer, and our noses bump. His warm breath fans across my cheek, as his heated gaze sweeps over every inch of my face.
“Thank you,” I rasp, no longer feeling cold. His spicy scent clings to his jacket, swirling around me, mixing with his minty breath and the citrusy smell emanating from his skin. The overall effect is intoxicating, and I’m in uncharted territory with this guy. I should run a million miles from him right now, yet I can’t ignore the instinctual pull to stay close to him.
“Let me try something,” he says, and my heart flip-flops behind my rib cage.
Leaning his head back against the tree trunk, he takes a long, slow drag of the joint, closing his lips and trapping the smoke inside. Twisting to one side, he reaches for me. My heart jackhammers in my chest, and butterflies swoop into the pit of my stomach. Long slim fingers touch my cheek, drawing my face in closer to his. He rubs his thumb along my lips before pushing it into my mouth. On instinct, I suck his thumb deeper into my mouth, laving my tongue against his coarse flesh, and his eyes turn a darker shade of green.
He brings his lips closer, his mouth hovering over mine, until there’s barely any gap between us. His eyes dip to my mouth, and I squeeze my thighs together as liquid lust gushes to my core. Keeping his gaze locked on my lips, he removes his thumb before blowing smoke directly into my mouth. Gently, he pinches my lips closed, trapping the fumes inside, and I inhale deep into my lungs. The heady scent of Mary J swirls around me, loosening my limbs, my inhibitions, and my tongue.
“More,” I whisper, incapable of wrenching my eyes from his gorgeous face. Dillon could be a model with those high cheekbones and that strong jawline. He has a unique edgy look with the hair, his ink, and his multiple piercings. Let’s not mention his incredible body, or that fascinating dick piercing, because I’m hanging by a thread here.
I wish we didn’t share such a strong attraction, because I already know I can’t act on it.
If Reeve decimated my heart, a guy like Dillon O’Donoghue would set fire to it; burning it until only charred fragments remained.
Despite my acknowledgment, and the danger I’m in, my ass refuses to budge. We sit side by side in his family’s orchard, under a blossoming apple tree, sharing a joint in companionable silence. After a while, I’ve forgotten why we’re even out here. “How’d this happen?” I ask, softly touching the little ridge on his nose.
“Got into a fight at school. Asshole shoved my face into a wall. Broke my nose in three places.”