“What?” I tried to stand, but his hand on my shoulder kept me in place. Then I made the mistake of turning my head. His brown eyes captivated me. We were too close, but I couldn’t look away. “How?”
Instead of answering, he locked his hands around my waist and lifted me to my feet. He towered over me, and the closeness of our bodies emphasized how large he was compared to my small frame. He intimidated me.
My hands found his shoulders when I swayed, and he gripped me tighter.
“It’s the heat,” I defended even though he hadn’t spoken.
He wouldn’t meet my gaze as he looked over my head. “Let’s go,” he ordered and released me. I took hesitant steps until I could trust my legs and then ran to catch up.
“Where are we going?”
“I need a shirt.”
“But I don’t want to go home.”
“We’re going back so I can get a shirt. That’s it.”
“Then where are you taking me?”
He sighed. “You’ll see when we get there.”
When we reached the brownstone, he disappeared into his room. I decided I needed a shower and Angel would have to wait, so I grabbed my caddy from my room. After showering, I pulled on another pair of shorts and a t-shirt that was cropped to expose a sliver of my stomach right above my waist. It wasn’t something I would ever wear the few times Daddy was around.
I didn’t have time to tangle with my hair, so I pulled it up in a messy bun and applied lip-gloss. I was feeling prepared to catch anything Angel pitched when I stepped from my room.
However, my confidence came to a screeching halt when I caught him leaning sexily against the wall. He’d changed, too, into a denim button up with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and brown cargo shorts. His attention was on his phone, but then he slowly looked up from the screen.
His gaze never made it past my legs.
“Is something wrong?” I asked when his staring grew uncomfortable.
He flinched and when he was finally staring back at me, his eyes held guilt. “Come on,” he muttered.
I followed him outside where his white mustang waited. I took my time admiring the clean white paint, double black stripes and blacked out rims. As always, I was nervous to share the small space with him. I was the only one harboring a secret crush, and I was afraid spending too much time in his presence would eventually give me away.
His body was relaxed in his seat when I got in. I stared as he typed fast on his phone.
“Done eye fucking my car?” He never looked up from his phone. His jaw was set telling me he was pissed off, and I wondered who he was messaging.
Maybe it was Trinity.
“Do you still have a girlfriend?”
Please say no. Please say no.
He stopped typing and looked at me. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” I answered defensively and turned to stare straight ahead. “Just making small talk.”
He grunted and turned on the ignition. The powerful engine roared to life, and my body vibrated to match the rhythm of the car. I had only just relaxed when he reached over my legs and opened the glove compartment. I tensed and sucked in air when his scent commandeered my senses.
He smelled like trouble I wanted to get into.
When he drew his hand from the compartment, he held a thin looking cigarette between his fingers. When he lit up the end, and the smell filled the small space, realization dawned.
“Are you addicted?” His glare made me wish I could disappear inside the leather seat.
“I smoke on occasion,” he answered. Then he reached out, and I might have squeaked. I breathed out just as his hand passed my face, and he stared at it momentarily before shaking his hand and pulling my seatbelt across. “You should wear a seatbelt.”
“You shouldn’t smoke weed.”
He assaulted me with that intimidating stare of his again. “There are many things I shouldn’t do that I may not be able to help, Mian.”
I shivered. It was my name and the way he spoke, almost like a caress even when he was threatening or scolding me. I couldn’t tell which was happening now.
“Meaning?”
He laughed and shifted his body until he was fully on his side once again and drove off. “Meaning, you aren’t ready to know what I mean.”
He didn’t speak to me again during the two-hour car ride. During the beginning, I was content to watch him slip the blunt between his lips over and over until it was gone.
He never slowed until we pulled into the driveway that belonged to a large white colonial home with black shutters. There was a small balcony above the large porch. It was held up by four white pillars. The neighborhood seemed serene with more two-story homes lining the street on either side.
Angel reached inside the compartment again, but this time, his forearm brushed my knee when he pulled out a can of body spray. He sprayed himself, and I recognized the scent from before, which put my senses back on high alert.
“Come on,” he spoke for the first time in two hours.
I followed after him when he left the car and climbed the couple of steps to the porch. “Who lives here?”
“Me.” He stuck a key in the door.