Years apart doesn’t change how well you know someone.
Closing my legs, I smirked at him, knowing he was watching intently the whole time. Grabbing my sweater from the chair, I slapped Grimm’s chest again, thanking him in my own way for the tattoo. “That’s my cue. The boss man will leave me here if I don’t make it to the car first.”
Wasn’t not true.
He was always threatening to leave me places, leave me locked out, lock his car before I even reach for the handle. Before I headed for the door, I watched Bowen hold out his closed fist for Grimm to push his knuckles against. There was an air of mutual respect, but it lacked familiarity that friendship lives on.
Crossing my legs in the front seat, I waited for Bowen to finally crawl into his car since I wasn’t exactly allowed to drive.
Not that I knew how.
Bowen turned, looking at me like I was precious cargo. After the tattoo, I already felt ready to give up the angel wings he assumed I had for horns. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” I was used to the scowl and cruelty that any form of nice seemed unearned.
“Seatbelt.”
“Seriously? You aren’t even drunk…” His eyes bore into me, refusing to move until I did as I was told. I was collecting all the ways I disobeyed so he could punish me… even though he wouldn’t.
Leaning over me, close enough to drown in, he grabbed the seatbelt for and clipped it down at my side, knowing full well I wouldn’t be so easy to boss around.
As soon as he backed out enough, he floored it down the abandoned road, leaving a touch of adrenaline kissing my body. It felt exhilarating to feel the cold breeze—the way it stopped me from breathing too deeply.
Not looking at me, he spoke, “They didn’t teach you any manners in Denmark, huh?”
They taught me more, it just depends on which version of me I’m comfortable being in the moment.
My head was full of the same dueling personality traits Bowen had: cruel on the weekdays, but on weekends, I could see how much he owned my ass.
Bought or not.
“Guess we’re even, you don’t have any either. Why did you strike so much in the contract? None of that matters as long as we get to be together,” I asked, still stuck on the moment he defended me then sealed it with a kiss.
Twisting in my seat, I tried to face him as much as I could against the leather bucket seats and seatbelt keeping me on my best behavior.
“Did you want to be referred to as merchandise?” His words fell flat, knowing that wasn’t what concerned me. He was smarter than he was acting right now.
Snaking out of my sweater, I let my skin glimmer against the streetlights, barely any of me truly covered, on purpose of course. I was constantly teasing him and wishing he would crack. “Not what I meant… splitting your assets with me? The clause about procreating?”
My cheeks flushed in a way that made it easy to see I was holding a secret inside. I needed to tiptoe around the truth in order to know how much Bowen knew about Denmark instead of assuming he was in the dark.
Shifting before his hands wrapped around the wheel even tighter, I saw his jaw tick, making it clear he knew something.
How damaged I truly am.
“If this doesn’t work, you get whatever you want, what is hard to understand? The rest is self-explanatory. Contracts, blood oath—shouldn’t you have asked about these things before?” Not even stealing a glance my way, I rubbed my thighs together, not sure how I still found him so sexy when he was being this much of an asshole.
He was doing all the legwork to make sure I was taken care of, and I just got to enjoy it.
He was protective and demanding in ways I never knew he could be.
He was stronger than I gave him credit for.
Looking between my legs, I could see the wing of the butterfly glossed over. “I’m marked for you now, but you aren’t for me...”
Finally pulling his eyes from the road, he looked at me with this devilish glimmer in his eyes. “How do you know I don’t have a butterfly somewhere?”
My body broke out in goosebumps just from the look in his eyes that screamed try me, never mind the words attached. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I slowly closed in on him, reaching over the console that was barely there. My hand pressed into his thigh as I whispered against him, “Where?”
Ignoring me, he tried to keep his attention on the road when my lips found the crook of his neck and started sucking the sensitive skin, determined to leave him marked as mine if he wasn’t going to prove he was already.
“Evey, sit down. I’m driving. Do you want to die?” His voice was distorted and not backed with any real malice the way it normally was.
Licking the spot I sucked, I let my tongue drag up to his ear to whisper again, “Isn’t this a beautiful way to go? Do you think we’d go to heaven or hell? I wonder where butterflies go...” My hand slipped down his inner thigh, making him jump forward at my touch.
Pulling over onto the shoulder of the road, where the pavement stopped, and the rocks kicked up against the wheels, he put his car in park. He sat back, seeming more relaxed even though stopping the car wasn’t going to be a final warning.
Grabbing onto my wrist, he stopped my hand from rubbing the obvious bulge between his legs that started back in
