Page 6 of Hot For Her Ex-Con

“Who’s the biggest asshole in the street?”

I feel my face twist up at his strange question, but I can’t stop, or I won’t be able to keep up with his long strides as he scans the glowing squares of our neighbors’ living rooms.

The rain has stopped, but it’s a cold evening and feels extra dark for some reason.

“Ummm… You are?” I answer cautiously, almost certain that’s what he wants me to say.

Killian stops in his tracks, and I know I've said the wrong thing. I saw how close Killian was to living up to his namesake with my mom. The guy looked like he was ready to pull her head off just for turning up when she did.

But instead of angering him, my reply makes him laugh aloud.

“Apart from me… Who’s the one on this street everyonefucking hates?”

It’s been a few months, but I know that everyone hates number sixteen. Real piece of shit.

“That one,” I tell him firmly, pointing to the driveway a couple of doors down. Killian frowns with approval, eyeing the gleaming Mustang parked out front.

“Let’s go.” He shrugs, holding out his huge hand, which mine curls into instantly.

That same giddy feeling I got when I walked in on him washes over me all over again, making me feel like I’m floating instead of walking with him.

And as much as I should be worried about just what he’s planning exactly, scared even, I can’t help but feel like I’ve found the one person in the world I can finally trust.

Killian glances up and down the street before eyeballing into the car and opening the unlocked passenger door for me.

I don’t even hesitate, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to be stepping into a soon-to-be-stolen car with the man I just met. The crazed maniac who tore our door off so he could?—

Oh my… Does he really want to? With me?

Woah…

The thought makes me chew my lip with a mix of excitement and just a little trepidation.

‘Withered arm’ indeed…

Guy’s hung like a fucking mule. The real question is, could I take all of him?

Man’s got size everywhere it counts and then some. Plus, most importantly for me, he’s a gentleman—in his own strange, almost scary kind of way.

“See? Destiny.” He smiles, settling himself behind the wheel and lifting the keys from the ignition, like he’s proving an imaginary point to me.

“What about your parole?” I exclaim way too loudly, covering my own big mouth once I hear it echo off the empty street.

Killian ignores my question, busying himself, rolling the car down the street a while before starting up and driving at a safe and respectable speed.

“Check the glove box,” he orders me calmly, watching the traffic and mirrors as if…

As if he's just stolen your neighbor’s car… with you in it?

Yeah. Something like that, I guess.

“Man like this is either too trusting or too full of himself…” Killian muses, thumbing the wallet I pass him, but his edgy glances and tense arm on the wheel are making me nervous.

As soon as I feel some uncertainty about all of this rising, he slows the car, looking over to me and creasing the edge of his mouth.

“This is destiny, Allison. Don’t be scared. I’ve waited a long time for this, and so far, everything’s running like clockwork.”

“I-I’m not scared…” I wheeze, swooning at a single glance from him. The rasped words are like invisible fingers all over my body, making me forget about everything except how good it felt to see him half naked like that… how much it makes me want him to pleasure me as hard as he was pleasuring himself.

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