“I’m ready to go.”
He pushes up off the wall and jerks his chin toward the door. “Let’s go then.”
“Wait,” the woman in the mini-dress puts a hand on Spider’s chest. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”
He stares down at where her hand is touching him and I do the same, glaring at the spot where her palm meets his pec.
I step forward and gently pluck the woman’s wrist away. “No touching.”
“Excuse me?” Fire flickers in her gaze as she steps close to my face.
Unimpressed, I meet her glare. “If a man touched a woman on the chest without permission we’d all be calling campus security.”
Her lips part as she struggles for words. “H-how do you know he didn’t give me permission?”
“Because he only likes it when I touch him.” I feel Spider drift closer to my side.
“You?” She chuckles as she looks from my khaki, pleated slacks to the pearl buttons of my cardigan. “I hate to break it to you, honey, but you are not his type.”
I lean in to speak directly into her ear. “He likes to choke me during sex.” Her eyes widen. “And I beg for him to leave bruises on my skin.”
Theodore’s upper teeth toy with his lip ring as he fights what looks like a smile.
She slides her gaze to him with a flicker of horror in her eyes.
I look calmly at Theodore. “I’d like to leave now.”
He takes my hand. “See ya around, Kelly.”
We walk away from a speechless Kelly and weave through endless bodies that smell of expensive cologne, liquor, and smoke. Once outside he drops my hand and we walk together back to the truck in silence.
When we get inside, and shut the doors, he finally turns to me. “Choking? Bruises? You’ve been holding back.”
I carefully pull out of the parking spot and barely avoid hitting drunk co-eds. “Why were you touching her hair?” I want to know what he was thinking as he watched her lips move but didn’t seem to hear a word she said. I want to know what compelled him to reach for her hair and test it against his fingertips. What was he thinking, what was he feeling, and why did witnessing it make me feel something too?
“I wanted to know if her hair felt as soft as yours.”
My foot lets up on the gas, the only reaction to my surprise.
“It didn’t.” He rubs at his lower lip with his fingers as he stares out the window. “Not even close.” When I don’t respond he looks at me. “You know, you could’ve just peed on me.”
I lose the battle with my lips and smile at his using my own words against me. “I’m saving that for the fourth date.”
“Date? Is that what we’ve been doing?”
I shrug. Closest thing to a date I’ve ever had. All my past sexual experiences were very much of the non-committal variety. One and done. No need for dinner or special treatment. I’ve always been upfront about what I’m looking for in a sexual partner and feelings and commitment are never the priority. “Don’t mistake my defense of consent for possession.”
He settles back into the seat, his long, muscled legs spread wide, his elbow propped in the open window. “Whatever you say, Kitten.” He allows a few beats of silence to stretch between us before asking, “What was that shit you pulled with Meegan? You threatened to kill her whole family.”
“I was joking.” I sniff and keep my eyes on the road. “Obviously.”
“Didn’t sound like you were joking.”
I allow his observation to linger in the quiet cab for the few minutes until I pull into his driveway. Leaving the engine running, I hit the unlock button.
“Come inside.”
“I can’t. I have to—”
He cuts me off by leaning his big body across the center console. His nose brushes my neck. “Come inside, Kitten,” he practically purrs. “I won’t touch you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Am I worried that he’ll touch me? Not in the least.
I’m more worried he won’t.
Spider
Emery follows me through the dark entryway to the kitchen.
“Did you eat dinner?” I open the fridge and pull out a stack of deli meats and cheeses.
“No.”
I figured she hadn’t. Rowan always talks about Friday nights at the coffee shop being too busy to take a dinner break. “Sandwich?”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t. Do you have a preference?” I motion to the selection in front of me.
She props her elbows on the countertop. “That’s a lot of meat.”
I smirk. “You flatter me.”
She rolls her eyes, a flicker of a smile on her lips. “Whatever is fine, I’m easy.”
“I’ve had easier.” I smirk and she laughs so quietly I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been listening for it. I grab a bread roll and slice it open, add some mustard, layer in meat, top with cheese and pop it into the toaster oven.
“Drink?”
She shrugs. “Whatever you’re having.”
“I’m having a beer, but you don’t drink beer.”
She lifts one delicate brow as if she’s impressed I’d noticed. “Water is fine.”
I hand her a bottle of water. “Why don’t you drink?
She toys with the label turning the thing in circles. “Alcohol clouds my head and I loathe that loss of control.”
I pop the cap on my beer and take a swig. “I’ve noticed that about you.”
Her hand freezes on the water bottle and she peers up at me.
“You push me away, pull me back in, stalk me, avoid me. Throw me at your dad. You’re constantly exercising your control over people to remind yourself you still have it.”
Her expression is blank, proving the accuracy of my observation. Her mask
