Page 31 of In Too Deep

Cynthia was the kind of girl you would bring home to meet your mom, and I did. She was always supportive of my life in the military. She knew what she wanted in life and had a plan, which I liked. The fact that she didn’t need to depend on me showed me how independent she was.

When I went for my second mission, her letters to me slowed down, and I just put it down to the fact that she was busy. But when I returned home, I found she wasn’t living there anymore, and instead, she was playing house with Gary, the real estate agent from whom I bought my apartment. They were living together and creating a life for themselves. They had even gotten engaged, and I was only gone for six months.

But what could I do? I was mad, got upset, and wanted to hit Gary for taking away the life Cynthia had promised me. But then I decided that if she could just forget me and move on that quickly, then she wasn’t someone I wanted a future with. So, I left that day thinking it was her loss and not mine.

I am a good man, saved money, and owned my apartment. If she wanted to marry Gary, then that was her choice. I wasn’t going to let it stop me from my dreams of wanting a family of my own someday. I haven’t seen Cynthia since then.

But this girl right here, the girl who has me doing things and making me forget why I’m here in the first place, is driving me fucking crazy. She had me from the moment I saw her, and I couldn’t leave tonight without knowing what she tastes like. And she sure as hell tastes good.

My hands cup her face, and I feel her tongue touch mine, causing an ache deep within. Her scent of berries and vanilla reaches my senses, and I just want to lay her down right here on the concrete ground and fuck her until she’s screaming out my name.

Her moans vibrate through me, and we can’t control ourselves. Her hands are around my neck, running through my hair to my chest, where she fists my shirt.

Fuck, I must stop this before someone sees us. Then, not only am I a dead man, but I will have stuffed this whole operation.

Can Theresa and Ben hear me kissing Belle?

With all the will I don’t have, I pull back and hold her wrists in my hands, keeping her at arm’s length where she can’t touch me. Because she’s driving me fucking crazy. And I won’t be able to hold back if she’s touching me like she is.

Belle tilts her head back to look at me. “What was that?” she asks, dazed, and I notice that she’s just as shocked as I am by what just happened. I let her wrists fall from my hold and apologize.

“I’m sorry, Belle, I shouldn’t have done that. That wasn’t fair on you,” I explain, touching my thumb to my lip, still feeling hers on mine.

Fuck, I’m never going to be able to get her taste out of my mouth.

Her eyes bore into mine, and she appears offended. “Excuse me? That wasn’t fair on me?” She takes another step toward me, and I step back, too scared of her touch. I’m worried that if she does put her hands on me, I will lose all self-control.

A bitter laugh escapes her lips.

“You’re just the same as the others… shit scared of my old man and don’t have the balls to see this through,” she claims. Waving her finger between us, she slides her tongue along her lower lip. “It’s okay, Seth. We both know why you stopped, and you don’t have to worry, I won’t tell my daddy.”

She turns and bends over the engine again. Grabbing her arm, I swing her around and pull her up against my torso.

“Listen, Belle. Don’t think I don’t want you because I do.” Our lips are touching now. “I want you so much that I’m willing to be killed just so I can have you. I’m not scared of your father or this club. I can handle myself, but I don’t want anything to happen to you for getting with a man like me. Now, let me fuckin’ fix this for you because you’re driving me fuckin’ crazy watching you under that hood.”

Her eyes widen, and she stutters, “I’m driving you what?”

Pulling her aside, I step closer to the engine and look at it. I can’t see much, so I take my phone out of my pocket and press the torch on it, looking deeper in there.

“What exactly is the problem,” I ask her, still looking at the engine.

“It’s not starting.”

“Switch the engine for me. Let me listen.”

She does as I say and sits in the driver’s seat. Our eyes connect again through the windshield, and for a minute, I feel everything stand still.

She turns the key, and no sound comes from the engine.

“Looks like your starter motor has had it.”

Shutting the hood, Belle gets out of the car and slams the door.

“That’s just great.” She grabs her phone from her back pocket.

“Who are you calling?” Stepping around the car, I meet her just as she’s making a call.

Placing her phone against her ear, she answers, “I’m calling Pete to pick me up.”

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