Page 28 of Elusive

I hear a car pull up behind us and stop, idling. “That’d be my Uber,” it’s a hoarse whisper. “I have to go.”

He snares both my hips in a merciless grip, rendering me immobile. Pressing his forehead to mine, his gnarl heats my lips. “Over my dead fucking body are you getting in a car with any man other than me. So either you tell him never mind, or I will. Up to you.”

“I already booked it.”

“Don’t care. I’ll pay him for his trouble. Now. Tell. Him. Never. Mind. Three,” he slides his hands up my sides. “Two.” Turns me by my shoulders. “O-”

“Geez, okay, I got it! Uh, thank you, sir,” I shout, and the guy rolls down his window. “Thank you,” I repeat, “but it looks like I won’t be needing a ride after all. Please charge my account double for the inconvenience.”

“You got it,” he says, happily confused, then rolls up the window and speeds away. No, this huge guy behind me isn’t a serial killer with a gun shoved in my back, but thanks for asking.

“Good girl,” Sutton hums in my ear, pressing his half-mast erection against my ass. “See those truck lights coming on?” He presses his fob and the big red Chevy across the lot unlocks and lights up. “That’s your chariot home. With me. Can you be trusted to walk over by yourself, or you planning on giving me more trouble? ‘Cause I’ve got no qualms about carrying ya.”

My answer is the steps I take in that direction, to which I hear him laugh. When I get there, he closes in behind me once more and covers my hand that’s already on the handle, with his own to open the passenger door for me. “Need help getting in?”

“No, I got it,” I snip, eyeing up the situation… with my short dress and tall heels in mind.

He backs up a bit. “By all means, be my guest. Lookin’ forward to watching this, especially since you’re not wearing any panties. Climb on up in there, Sugar, nice and slow-like.”

Oh shit, that’s right.

“Waitin’ for the show,” he taunts in the octave of sin.

Along with a loud huff, I glare at him over my shoulder. “I could be wearing a thong, ya know.”

“But you’re not.” He winks. “No bra either.”

“Okay, that one I understand how you can tell, but what makes you so sure about the thong? Or lack thereof?”

“Presley,” he presses in on me again, eyes smoldering, “your round, juicy ass,” he palms it, “is one of my favorite sights in the whole world. Therefore, I’ve studied it, at length. And, had the pleasure of sliding my hands, mouth and tongue all over it. Trust me, I knew the second I saw you tonight, the only thing between me and your completely naked body was that scrap of a dress. Oh,” he laughs, not in humor, but in cocksureness, “and I’m a little insulted you’ve forgotten… the part where I checked? Inside? Under the table? My hand, your bare, wet pussy?”

Wanton heat engulfs me, my mind fritzing, able to think only of how desperately I want him — on me, in me — consuming me physically, expecting nothing emotionally. Too bad he’s made it very clear, that somehow, despite my total lack of giving him any reason whatsoever, he’s past that point — leaving me in the same, stagnant dust to which I’m no stranger. I can’t have the first, the physical… because he’ll try to pressure me into giving him the second.

“Fine. Yes, I need help up, please,” I icily admit defeat and snap my head forward, unable to look at him and stay the course I must.

“Figured,” he clips, giving me a boost into the truck. “You hungry?” He asks when he’s joined me in the cab and has the engine started.

“No, but thank you. Straight home will be great, please. To my home.”

“I get it, Presley, we’re parting ways at your door tonight. Felt the shift in ya, know it well. But I’m hungry, so if you’re not in too big of a hurry to get the hell away from me, mind if I drive through somewhere real quick?”

“Sorry,” I exhale noisily, “of course I don’t mind.” Enough; time to say something along the lines of what he’s asked to hear. Something real. I can’t listen to the confused pain in his voice, the pain I put there, any longer without at least trying to explain some of it away. “Sutton, can I be honest with you?”

“I have no fucking idea anymore. Can you?”

“Don’t,” I bite, my head snapping his way. Even in profile, his misery’s evident — clenched jaw, tense shoulders, nostrils flaring with each weighted breath. “Don’t let myissues tarnish you, make you say mean things. That’s not who you are.”

“No offense, Presley, but I’m not lookin’ for help figuring out who I am, got that one on lock. But by all means, if you’re in some rare mood to talk, open and honestly, how ‘bout hearing a little, just one fucking hint, about who you are? And before you try feeding me any more shit about the girlfriend I don’t have, or ruining my life, lemme catch ya up on what I think I already know. According to a reliable source, you’ve never had a real relationship, but you also don’t sleep around. You tease, tempt, talk to guys… then move on before taking the time to remember their name. Case in point, you asked your family to find you a guy to date, and the first one they bring, when you weren’t ignoring him completely, you called him, Cameron, not his name, and pushed him on Brynn. You ridicule Skylar’s marriage, and what you assume is her boring life every chance you get, but lit up brighter than the North Star when she mentioned a baby. You won’t let anyone really get any closer than some laughs, fun, and swapping smartass jabs, yet you guard those you love with your life. If you wanna tell me anything besides any of that, I’m all ears. You sure you don’t want something?” he tosses in, having pulled up to order his food.

Fuck it… if we’re gonna talk ourselves to death all night, I’ll need sustenance. “Number four with a Sprite. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he cages an inward laugh, orders, then glances at me, cocky grin in place. “Was that so hard?”

“What?”

“Admitting you were hungry.”

“Just proceed to the window and grab the food before it gets cold, mouthy. You know, there’s this evil rumor floating around, pretty universally, that getting a man to discuss things is like pulling teeth. Congrats on being the anomaly, you’re the talkingest damn dude I’ve ever met. And no, it wasn’t hard. Worked up an appetite, listening to all your babble.”

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