My gut tells me she’s oversimplifying things—that there’s more to this story. “When he calls you, what does he say?”
“He mostly just asks me to come back. But the less interested I seem, the pushier he gets.”
“Has he ever hurt you?” I ask with more bite than intended.
“Not physically. I’m not afraid of him,” she says, avoiding a straight answer, and I narrow my eyes. “I just want him to leave me alone.” She inhales deeply. “I just want to move on, but I can’t if he keeps calling me, reminding me of my mistakes.”
I get that more than most people. So many times, I’ve thought about picking up and leaving and starting over somewhere new where no one knows the gritty details of my past, but something has kept me rooted in River’s Edge. It wasn’t until I opened my shop—that I had something to stick around for, though I could relocate if I really wanted to.
“Why not just change your number?”
“I have. This number is brand-new. I don’t know how he got it. He’s very…resourceful.”
“Do you want me to talk to him?”
“God, no,” she says, horrified. “That would only make it worse. Trust me.”
We’re both quiet, neither of us knowing how to proceed. This girl. She’s beautiful and feral and confusing and messy. And that’s exactly why I need to stay away. Neither one of us has room for any more complications in our lives.
I swipe my shirt and hoodie off the floor, balling them up in my hands. “Let’s get you home.”
“Let’s get you home,” Dare says, his voice flat. I knew he’d think differently of me once I told him about Eric—and he doesn’t even know the whole story. Imagine what he’d think if he knew that Eric was also married. Is married.
I nod, tucking my hair behind my ears as I avert my eyes to hide the hurt. The shame. I’ve done a lot of fucked-up things in my life—hazard of growing up the way I did, I guess. I was taught to lie, cheat, and steal, to survive by any means necessary. But out of everything, Eric is the thing I’m most ashamed of. It’s not even the fact that he was married, though that doesn’t paint me in the best light. It’s the fact that I allowed myself to be one of those stupid fucking girls who falls for everything, as long as it comes from a pretty face.
Eric was larger than life. Successful, smart, charming, gorgeous, and completely intimidating…and he wanted me. A ghetto girl from Oakland. I was used to guys like him wanting my body for the night, but Eric…he wanted me. Forever. He preyed on my weaknesses. Preyed on the fact that I was poor and that I wanted to make a better life for Jess. Preyed on the fact that I was hungry for a better fucking life. Preyed on my love for his son, Cayden. He wanted me completely dependent on him.
His wife, Olivia, was too busy snorting pills and drinking vodka for me to ever question his lies. But I started to see Eric for who he was, and suddenly, Olivia’s behavior started to make sense to me. If I had stayed, that could’ve been my future.
The more Eric tried to control me, the more I pulled away. The money wasn’t worth it. None of it was. I stayed longer than I should have because I had this stupid notion that I was one of the only ones in Cayden’s life who even kind of had their shit together, but who was I kidding? I was the worst possible role model. In the end, I left a town that never loved me and a man who wanted to own me.
The keys on Dare’s belt loop jingle, pulling me from my thoughts. He’s sliding his T-shirt down over his head, and I can’t help but notice the way his tattooed muscles flex with the movement. The same ones I had my hands on two minutes ago, until he rejected me.
“Ready?” he asks, tossing his hoodie onto the back of his chair.
Wordlessly, I stand, following him out. When he stops to lock up, I don’t wait for him, heading straight for his truck instead. I hear the truck doors unlock as I approach. I lift one foot onto the bar and reach for the handle to hoist myself inside. I watch Dare as he moves toward me, head down, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, but when he gets into the driver’s seat, I look anywhere but at him.
I hear the truck start, and he hesitates for a minute. I can feel him looking at me, but I don’t meet his eyes. He denied me when I was on my knees for him. My ego took a blow, and I need a minute to recover from the embarrassment of the situation.
Dare huffs out a breath and starts to drive once he realizes I’m not going to budge. My knee bounces restlessly as I stare out the window. This part of town is decked out for Christmas already, all the buildings and trees glowing with lights. It’s such a difference from the city. It’s like something out of a storybook. I focus on a huge tree with color-changing lights, when I feel Dare’s hand on my knee, stopping my movements. He gives a squeeze, and this time I do meet his eyes. Their blue so bright, even under the night sky. Holding my gaze, his thumb moves back and forth, soothing. I swallow hard, resisting the urge to clamp my thighs shut. He trains his attention back on the road, but his hand stays on my leg. His fingers ghost the inside of my thigh, putting the slightest amount of pressure as he slides them up and down the thin fabric of my leggings. My breath comes out in short pants, and I feel myself clench when he gets closer to where I want him. He teases, getting close to the apex of my thighs, only to glide back down.
“Lo,” he says, his voice thick and gravelly.
“Yeah?” I ask, trying to sound normal, as if I’m not all hot and bothered from his touch alone.
“Where does Henry live?”
I do my best to give him directions while he continues his ministrations, but when he grazes my pussy, I freeze. I can’t form words. What are words? I don’t know anything other than I don’t want him to stop this time. I give up trying to act like I’m not affected, my head thrown back against the headrest, gripping the door handle for dear life.
At first, his touch is feather light, but as my breathing grows harsher and my leggings grow damper, he increases pressure until he’s rubbing firm circles against my clit. “Oh God,” I breathe, unable to keep quiet any longer. I feel my nipples harden against my bralette. Every part of me is hypersensitive, ready to combust.
My eyes are screwed shut, but I sense him slowing down and pulling off to the side of the road, never faltering in his assault between my thighs. Once we’re stopped, his hand is gone for half a second before he shifts and replaces it with his left hand.
“You’re so fucking wet I can feel it on my fingers,” he rasps, like he’s somehow as affected as I am. When I open my eyes, Dare’s closer than I expected, one arm propped on the center console as he stares at the hand moving between my legs. The sight of him watching what he’s doing to me turns me on even more, and a sound somewhere between a whine and a whimper slips free.
I pull his face to mine and lick the seam of his lips. This kiss is all tongues and teeth, rough and clumsy and desperate. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, and he groans when I tug on it with my teeth. His lips trail down to the corner of my mouth, then my jaw. Dare dips his hand under the waistband of my leggings as he sucks on my earlobe. His warm fingers slip through my lips, and my back bows off the seat. Oh, holy shit, why does this feel so good?