Prologue
Ruby
“You keep your damn mouth shut, Ruby. I mean it. You tell Mom or Dad or Poppy that I brought you here and what I do…” My brother, Harry, trails off as we pull up to the empty lot. He backs his car into its rightful spot, and I wait for him to tell me I’m allowed out.
“I’m not a nark, you half-wit,” I sass with an eye-roll.
“Good.” He nods before stepping out of his Nissan GTR that he’s made into a fast street-racing car. “Now, be good and stay out of the way,” he adds, making me boil.
I may only be thirteen, but I’m not stupid. I know he does this illegally. And I also know he puts a lot of money on the line each time he does.
“I got baby King,” Sonny says with a crooked smirk, throwing his arm around my shoulders. I know that look. Harry pierces his best friend with a glare to behave, but I give Sonny a warning look of my own, scoffing and throwing his arm off me.
While beers and bottles of liquor are passed around with joints, people continue to spill into the lot. I’m watching, taking it all in while sitting atop Desmond’s car hood.
Desmond—or Dez as everyone usually calls him—and Sonny are both Harry’s best friends. They do everything together, thick as thieves and probably worse. They’re all somewhere between sixteen and seventeen and have all the girls in our city dropping to their knees to kiss their feet for a chance to be with them. Together, they run this little corner of Las Vegas. Well, mostly.
Harry spots me, grabbing two bottles of beer and making his way to me. “Here. Maybe this will actually loosen you up for once, Rubes.” I stare at the bottle, calculating in my head how many calories it is if I drink it. “It’s one beer. It’s not going to make you lose all your dancing abilities. I promise.” Inhaling a deep breath, I tip it back, taking a gulp. “Cheers, baby sister. You’re officially growing up,” he laughs as he turns to walk away. “The race is going to start soon. You good?” he asks, turning back to face me.
I nod. “I’m good. Promise. Thanks for this,” I add, holding up my beer. “Now, go win some Benjamins.” I smile at him, trying to reassure him that I’ll be fine so he can focus and race well. Last thing I need is for him to not have his head in it, crash and get hurt.
Giving me a salute, he turns, heading over to his car to prepare for the race. Once his thoughts are off of me, I dump the beer in the grass next to Dez’s car.
“Well, that’s a waste.” I turn to see Sonny behind me.
“Maybe.” I shrug. “But it’s also not worth the calories.”
“Here,” he says, tossing me a bottle of water that he pulls from his back pocket. “I figured as much.”
Catching the bottle, I unscrew the cap and take a big drink of the cold liquid. “Thanks,” I say as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“You want to watch the race?”
“Not really.”
Chuckling, he walks closer to me. “Come on,” he orders as he takes my hand. I follow behind him, my hand in his and my stomach full of tingles. We stop at his car, which is parked farther back into the lot and away from the crowd. “I told your brother I’d watch after you, but I’d rather do it with you perched on my car, not Dez’s.”
Gripping my waist, he picks me up and sets me on his matte black car. I’m sure it’s worth more than my life, but he doesn’t seem to care that I’m leaving smudges on the paint from my clammy palms and bare legs. Not to mention that I’m in a short skirt that’s ridden up, ensuring that when I stand my butt print will be left behind as well.
My eyes find his, and I wait to see what his next move is. Sonny has always been good to me, taken care of me, treated me like I was something special and precious. But not breakable or naïve like the rest of my family.
I’ve had a crush on him since I first opened my eyes, I swear. He’s been friends with Harry for as long as I can remember and has always been around. His parents leave him alone most the time—his dad always gone and working while his mom is a loner who never leaves her house much—neither one wanting to be bothered by their son, which has him joining our family often.
My parents travel a lot too, for work, but they at least check in and are there for the important things. Not Sonny’s. They leave and don’t care.
But I care.
“I don’t like this outfit, Tink,” he tells me, using the nickname he’s had for me since I was four.
Suddenly offended, I sit up straighter. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”
Stepping into my personal space, he runs a finger down my bare arm. “You’re showing too much, and the assholes here, they see you. Want a piece of you.” He pauses, his eyes darkening. “But they can’t have you,” he whispers.
I’m drawn in, not able to take my eyes off of him. I watch as his eyes fall. To my lips first, then down my chest and ending at my legs before making their way back up.
“You look like a woman tonight. Not a little girl. I’m not sure if I like this or not.”
“I’m not a little girl anymore,” I reply with defiance in my tone, sitting up straighter and rolling my shoulders back to try to look confident and not as nervous and unsure as I feel.
His mouth pulls up on one side. “I see that.” His eyes challenge me, and as they do, mine drop to his mouth. Licking my lips, I wonder what it would be like to kiss Sonny Knight.
Uncrossing my ankles, I take his hand and pull him to stand between my legs. Looking up at him, I plead for him to make the next move and for it not to be to push me away.
My heart pounds in my chest when his hand raises and he cups my cheek, his eyes still boring into mine. I lick my lips, seeing his eyes catch the movement. His thumb swipes over my cheek, and I close my eyes to take in all that’s happening in this moment in the dark parking lot.
He tips my head up. “Open your eyes. Look at me, Tink.” I obey, and when I do, he smiles down at me. “You are pure beauty.” My breath catches from his compliment, making my lips part. That’s when I see the storm brewing in his grey eyes.
His thumb goes to my lips, and without thinking, I kiss the pad. Those grey eyes flare as they watch me. My shaky hands go to his waist, and my fingers tease the warm skin of his stomach along the band of his low-hung jeans.
A groan quietly emits from him as his eyes close and his forehead falls to rest on mine.
“If I have to keep my eyes on you, then you have to do the same,” I tell him. His eyes open, and in them, I fall.
Slowly, we close the inches that separate us, our breath mixing. “I have to taste you,” he whispers, our lips so close they skim with each word spoken.
My eyes stay on his as his lips press to mine. Soft and light at first. When he pulls back, he searches for me to say something. To push away, to stop him—like I should—but I don’t. Instead I pull him into me more.
When he goes back to my lips for a second time, I open for him. My eyes roll back when his tongue finds mine. He kisses and tastes every part of my mouth. Everything intensifies the longer we kiss.
His hips press against mine, and I feel how hard he is through his jeans. It shocks me at first, knowing that I did that to him. It’s overwhelming, an explosion of sensations all over my body, everything new. I’m putty in his hands and so lost in him and this moment. I should stop. I don’t even know if I’m doing it right. But he doesn’t seem to mind my naivete.