Stupid, stupid, stupid.
My breath catches when I find Evan in the same exact place, sitting on the ground with Acorn, a small solar lantern glowing next to them.
I look around nervously as I approach, afraid there might be other homeless men nearby. I almost expect a bunch of them to be down here, drinking and standing around in front of a garbage can bonfire like they do on television. But there aren’t any other people here. There’s just Evan and Acorn.
And me.
The clicking of my heels announces my arrival, and his head snaps in my direction. After giving Acorn a quick pet on the head, he stands and takes a few unsure steps toward me.
“Piper… what are you doing here?” He glances behind me. “It’s not safe at night—”
Holding the bag up, I interrupt him by talking in warp speed. “I brought you a few things. A soda and pretzels and an apple and Vicodin.”
Before accepting the bag from me, he takes a deep breath, his cheeks puffing out as he exhales. “You really didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. I was worried about you. You looked so sick earlier.”
“I appreciate it. But I can’t take these.” He pulls the bottle of pills out of the bag and hands them to me.
I close my fingers around the bottle. “I thought they would help your headache.”
“They would.” He lets out a clipped laugh. “They really fuckin’ would.”
I narrow my eyes, and he nervously pushes his hair behind his ear.
“I’m an addict, Piper.”
My stomach sinks. I was right—he’s a junkie. I knew it.
He licks his lips, the metal piercing catching a sliver of moonlight reflection. “I’ve been clean for two years, but I can’t take any chances and go down that road again. I’d rather suffer through the pain and everything else.”
His eyes shift to the bottle in my hand as if it’s a treasure. The line of his jaw clenches, his lust for the drugs invading the space between us. I’ve never been remotely addicted to anything but chocolate and ice cream, but I can guess how hard it is to stay away from something he craves badly.
I’m obviously failing at it myself.
“I’m so sorry, Evan. I totally understand.” Flustered, I shove the bottle into my purse and quickly zip it shut. “I had no idea. I apologize.” Leave it to me to wave drugs in front of a recovering addict.
“Don’t worry about it. I feel better now, just tired.”
“I’m glad.” Pinned by his intense stare, my pulse quickens, unsure if he now sees me as a source of pills or something else.
I smile nervously. “You must think I’m nuts, coming down here twice. I’m not a stalker. I promise.”
“No… I think you’re just a really good person.” He sets the bag of snacks down next to the lantern. “Way too good to be here with me.”
“That’s not tr—”
Without warning, his mouth is on mine, open and hot. Stumbling backward from the shock, I clutch the soft fabric of his flannel shirt as he grabs the back of my head and pulls my mouth harder against his. There’s not one hint of gentleness in his kiss. It’s raw, rough, and unapologetically demanding. When my lips part in an attempt to either moan or protest—I’m not sure which—his tongue invades my mouth, annihilating my words while he slowly slides his hand from the nape of my neck down to my waist. Those long fingers that move over the guitar strings so perfectly grip me so hard I’m sure I’ll have bruises tomorrow.
He backs me up until my spine slams against the cold stone wall, then pulls away, just far enough to stare down into my eyes but close enough that I can feel his breath against my face.
He edges his other hand up and closes it around my neck, the span of his huge palm covering my throat. My pulse thumps wildly against his grasp as I struggle to swallow. I’m paralyzed, not just because he’s got my throat in a chokehold, but because the undeniable flash of lust I see in his eyes is sending an army of white-hot electrifying tingles throughout my entire body. Warmth floods between my thighs despite the chill in the air. Closing his eyes, he lowers his head and slowly drags his nose across my cheek. He inhales deeply.
His voice is deep and husky when his mouth touches the corner of mine. “You should get out of here.”
My heartbeat thunders in my ears. “I don’t want to.”
Exhaling with a low rumble, he releases my throat. He clenches the back of my neck, threading his fingers through my hair. Using the tension of my hair in his grasp, he pulls my face toward his. My scalp stings with the tightening of his fingers, and he silences my gasp by filling my mouth with his tongue. The metal bar dings against my teeth on the way in. Trembling from head to toe with a dizzying mix of fear and desire, I grip his shoulders for stability—or maybe just to get my hands on him.
Leaning closer, he shoves his leg between mine, his jeans chafing against the flesh of my thighs as he pushes them apart. The cool night breeze travels up my skirt and sends a shiver through my limbs. I move my hand to his chest, but he quickly snatches it and pins it against the wall above our heads, locking his fingers into mine. He moves his leg up against my crotch, lifting me about a foot off the ground, bringing my lips level with his.
My entire being spins into a euphoric haze as he kisses me deeper. I lose the ability to think or breathe. I surrender to his touch and become mindless, boneless, thoughtless.
And in that moment, utterly regretless.
I don’t push this stranger away. I don’t say no. The sighs and whimpers that drift from my lips while his mouth devours me beg for more. My body and mind consent. I have no choice but to straddle his leg, and the pressure against my clit makes me want to rub all over him like a cat. Drowning in him, I gulp his breath into my lungs. He’s tobacco and mint-infused oxygen, resuscitating me.
Slowly lowering me to my feet, he moves his free hand to the hem of my skirt and lightly traces the edge of the material. The silver rings on his fingers are smooth and cold against my skin. He inches his hand beneath my skirt and squeezes my inner thigh hard enough to make me wince. I slip further down the rabbit hole when his finger languidly glides back and forth over the damp spot at the front of my panties, coaxing me, teasing me, luring me.
Blood flows back to my hand when he releases it from its prison against the stone above our heads. I flex my fingers and stare into his darkening eyes, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
He presses his thumb to the thin material against my clit and traces a lazy circle. He watches me, his lips hovering over mine, and it’s perfectly tantalizing the way his finger moves so unrushed, making me powerless to resist rocking into his touch for more. He’s savoring my every fluttering breath, my every response. I can see it in the flash and burn of his eyes and in his ragged breathing—which is unexpected and provocative. Nobody has ever looked at me like he does.
And I’m sure no one ever will.
This man could rape me or kill me down here at the dark edge of the park. No one would know. He could easily walk away with his guitar and his dog, on to the next town. Free. Not a soul would ever know I came here on my own, allowed him to put his hands and his mouth on my body and conjure desire out of me.
Piper would never do such a thing, they’d say.
But I like this. For once, I’m not boring, safe, and predictable little Piper. I’ve walked willingly into the depths of the unknown, which comes under the guise of inked arms and a beautiful voice. He’s my first taste of wild, and he’s nothing short of delicious.
His husky whisper pulls me in. “Turn around.”
Blinking, I suffer a brief hesitation. Common sense and morals almost reel me in from the edge I’m teetering on.