Page 70 of Forget Me Twice

She’s thinking about it; I can tell. After a beat, she leans over and whispers something to Wren, who just shrugs once, and then she sends me a wicked smirk.

I’ve got my answer.

Fuck yes.

This will be the record for the fastest fucking shower of my life.

* * *

I hadn’t realize justhow completely wound up I was—totally convinced that Sabine was going to bail on me—until I burst out into the hallway and the relief splashes over me like sea spray.

My lighter snaps shut with a loud click and I shove it into my pocket of my gym shorts, taking a moment to drink in the sight of the woman in front of me.

I feel my pulse spike again, but this time it’s not with the same gut-wrenching anxiety that was churning my guts during my entire post-game routine.

She’s leaning against the wall, thumbs flying over her phone screen. Without looking up, she says, “What kind of mischief do you have planned for us today then, Hermes?”

I’ve got everything we need in the backpack slung over one of my shoulders. “Follow me,” I instruct happily, grabbing her hand and making damn sure she is, in fact, following me.

“Yeah, sure. Why the fuck not?”

Yes! It is on like motherfucking Donkey Kong.

I drag her all the way through the back halls and via the shortcut to the parking lot. We need to blow this joint before a certain someone notices the keys to his Mustang are missing.

The big guy should really put a lot more thought into choosing his hiding places.

When we reach Ares’s GT, my chest heaves with anticipation, laced with a little trepidation, but I hold up the set of keys with a grin. “Can you drive stick, Wifey?”

For a moment, I think she hasn’t heard me, then I realize Sabine’s busy giving the car averyappreciative once-over.

I really want her to look atmelike that.

Needit, in fact. Preferably while I’m busy licking her cunt from the inside out. Like, fuckingyesterday.

“Stop calling me that,” she answers in a distracted tone, but then she proceeds to swipe the keys dangling off my finger. I guess that answers my question.

I clap my hands and round the hood for the passenger’s seat. “No can do, babycakes. I know you and my brother didn’t do muchtalkingon Friday night, but I know that he told you that you’re ours. So, best to quit fighting it and justsave your breath.”

Her eyebrows shoot up at my innuendo. Hell yeah, I love catching her off guard like that. After a lot of begging, I managed to squeeze every last play-by-play out of a smug Apollo.

Or should I say breath-play-by-breath-play?

Hmm.I wonder if her willingness to deep-throat would expand to other types of erotic asphyxiation? That’d be hot as fuck.

I volunteer as tribute.

I jump in and slam the door before she can quip back with something snarky and ruin this for us. We don’t need those kinda vibes here. There’s only a moment’s hesitation but then there’s a mirroring slam from the driver’s side.

“Alright, where to?” Her voice is molten, like she’s already horny as fuck and I chuckle, watching her. She’s totally riveted, caressing her palms over the stained wood of the tri-bar steering wheel.

“The ‘Stang’s just the foreplay. You know the Southside Pier?” I ask, drumming my fingers on the dash while subtly checking our mirrors for signs of a pissed off tattooed man-hulk. So far, so good.

Sabine nods, firing the engine up—and then peeling out of the lot like the Hounds of Hell are on her ass. I crank the window down and let out a long, loud howl of approval. First part of the mission complete.

She whoops with me, smoothly changing gears and sliding us in and out of traffic like it’s her fucking job. This is definitely not her first time behind the wheel of a muscle car.

This girl. Christ, I can’t take my eyes off her and now I’m hard as diamonds.

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