“You tell him, girl,” Jess called.
Hamilton hung up the phone.
I was smoothing the threadbare fabric of my favorite band shirt when a knock on the door made me pause. I decided to wear a black denim miniskirt with combat boots and my tee tied up at the waist. The outfit showed off a sliver of my tanned, toned stomach, and my long hair fell in waves over my shoulders and down my back. Every bit of my outfit was picked with Hamilton in mind.
I couldn’t help but obsess over his words…
Petals are meant to be picked.
I reached up and pressed my index finger to my bottom lip, imagining the feel of his full mouth on mine. Attraction was such a fickle thing. How could something so out of reach—so forbidden—feel so necessary? Ever since Hamilton’s gaze clashed with mine, I felt this dirty, filthy need for him. It wasn’t right, and I knew that it was risky to spend more time with him. Wanting Hamilton Beauregard was like standing outside in the middle of a lightning storm while holding a tall metal rod in your fist. There was a thrill in the risk of getting struck by lightning. Self-preservation had me wearing rubber boots but still wanting to dance through the storm.
Mom would be disappointed in me. Something told me she wouldn’t want me fantasizing about her new husband’s younger brother. It was too scandalous. Too taboo. Then, of course, there was the issue of these feelings being unrequited. Hamilton ran hot and cold. Anything between us would be raw, passionate, and fucking temporary. I wasn’t sure the risk was worth it.
I could do one-night stands, but I knew in my gut that Hamilton would be different. I’d had sex before, but I still allowed my mother’s words to dictate the shame I felt about doing it. Every time I fucked, I was so in my own head that I rarely came. I craved physical intimacy. Maybe it was time to stop letting my mother’s hang-ups and trauma dictate my own sexual exploration.
But like lightning, Hamilton would ruin me.
He knocked again, and I cleared my throat before moving to answer it.
A light dusting of spicy cologne hit me the moment I saw him. Hamilton looked sexy, with dark jeans and the same black shirt from before. The outline of his muscles could be easily seen through the worn fabric. His dark hair was still wet, as if he’d just showered and rushed over here. The dark strands curled slightly at the ends. In his front pocket, I saw the distinct outline of a pack of cigarettes, but I’d never seen him smoke. He smelled of tobacco and mint gum.
“You took my words to heart,” Hamilton said while looking me up and down. I felt embarrassed by his obvious perusal.
I let out an exhale and grabbed my purse hanging on the nearby rack and put my cell phone inside of it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I quipped. I was about to shut the door and lock it when Hamilton reached out and grabbed my hips, walking me back through the threshold of my apartment before kicking the door shut. “Wh-what are you doing?” I stammered. His hot hands pressed against my exposed skin, teasing me at the waistband of my skirt. I had to fight to keep my eyes open.
“We should probably talk about a couple of things,” he whispered, his smirk proud and tempting.
“Oh?” I choked out. “About what?”
“Tonight is a date,” he replied. “I just wanted you to know exactly what my intentions are.”
“Hamilton…we can’t. Where is this coming from?” It’s not like he’d acted interested in me leading up to this point.
“I can’t stop thinking about how you watched me with your wide, beautiful eyes. I have a theory.”
I gulped. “A theory?”
“Part theory, part hypothesis. I wonder if you’ll gasp when I slide inside of you. Will your lips part? I don’t make a habit of denying myself of life’s pleasures, as you can tell. And I decided that we could have a lot of fun, Vera.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I rushed out. “This feels a little sudden.”
“Is it though?” Hamilton asked. “Because to me, this tension between us has been building since the moment I laid eyes on you. I know you feel it, too.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He ignored me. “You can’t wear this,” he whispered over my skin. I chewed on my lip, feeling a wave of arousal hitting me in the gut.
“Why not?”
He threaded his finger through my belt loop and tugged me against him. I braced my palms against his chest. “For starters, you have no business looking this fucking delicious.”
“You think I look delicious?” I asked. I wasn’t expecting him to say that, and I could have kicked myself for being so lame and asking.
He smirked before leaning over to hover his lips over the shell of my ear. I felt his warm tongue run along my neck. My stomach became a flurry of nerves, and he whispered again. “Yes. You do.”
“You probably shouldn’t do that,” I whispered.
“Do what, Petal?” Hamilton asked while reaching up to wrap his fingers around my neck.
“This. It’s not right. Don’t kiss me,” I pleaded when his lips hovered over mine. He was just one mistake away from swallowing my lust whole. He lightly squeezed at my words, and my lips parted on a gasp. I wanted him in that moment. It would have been easy to give in—to strip naked and fuck him on every surface of the apartment his brother was paying for.
But I didn’t.
“As you wish,” he replied reluctantly before pulling away. “No kisses. But you really should change. I brought the motorcycle. I’m not sure you want to show the entire world your panties on the ride there.”
I pulled away to look down at my skirt and inhaled. Fuck. I could choke on the tension. His motorcycle? “Who says I’m wearing panties?” I replied before instantly regretting my statement. Talk about mixed signals. What was it about Hamilton that made me so bold? Maybe I just needed to get laid. Fuck.
Hamilton licked his lips. “You’re such a tease,” he whispered while brushing the tips of his fingers along my thigh. “I can’t kiss you, right? Is touching off the table?” I slammed my weak legs together and pressed my forehead to his chest.
“Stop,” I whispered.
“Stop what?” Hamilton asked while lifting higher and higher, running his thumb along my sensitive skin.
“Stop touching me,” I said. His other arm wrapped around my waist, and he chuckled.
“I just want to see one more thing,” he whispered before pressing at the apex of my thighs and running his hand along the now damp fabric covering me. My skirt had completely risen, and I was thankful we were in the privacy of my apartment. What would people say?
“I want you to stop,” I reiterated in a throaty whisper.
“Your thoughts are so fucking loud, Petal,” he pressed on before rocking his hand back and forth. I knotted my fingers in his shirt at the hot sensation. “And you’re a beautiful little liar.”
He withdrew his hand, and the temporary insanity that seemed to take over my body whenever Hamilton touched me faded. My phone started going off, and I stepped away from him. “You’re such a fucking pervert,” I cursed while grabbing my cell from my purse. Fuck. Mom was calling again.