Page 88 of Felonies are Forever

“You want me to take you away? You want someone to make you feel in danger and safe at the same time?”

I nod, mouth gaping open, my pulse ticking like a time bomb. “I want a lot of things. If you’ll help me…”

“I knew that hot little pussy on my leg was calling for help. Let’s go.”

FIVE

Lula

My mother screechesmy name again as I stumble to grab my purse. Scotch’s fingers lace with mine as he tucks a bottle of champagne under his arm and leads me out the back door.

He pulls me by the hand like we’re Bonnie and Clyde toward an enormous all black pickup. In one move, he opens the door and lifts me up as I pull on the hand hold until I’m in the seat, turning to see him flash me that magic smile, adding a killer wink this time.

A second later, he’s in the driver’s seat and we are zooming out of the parking lot, wheels spinning as Every Rose Has Its Thorn plays on the radio and I realize this is probably the most adventure I’ve had in my whole life. The truck rumbles and vibrates as he reaches over and slips his fingers between mine.

This is so wrong. He’s family and I barely know him. The contrast of those two things not lost on me but neither of them seem to dampen the desire that’s thundering between my legs and drumming in my chest.

“Where are we going?” I manage through the lump lodged in my throat.

“You’ll see, just up here.” He slows the truck, taking a left onto a little dirt strip that looks like it doesn’t belong on this urban side of town. My tits bounce on the rough road and I catch Scotch admiring the view even in the low light of the truck cab.

“Your tits make my mouth water.”

Heat rises on my cheeks. “That so?” I inspect myself. “They are pretty nice. Real too. That seems to be a novelty tonight.”

A low chuckle leaves his throat. “True enough, little girl.” The closed in trees along the road open up and across a long stretch of grass is a stunning lake. Not like a Great Lake, but not a pond either. The silver slice of the crescent moon flickers on the glass surface of the water as Scotch parks the truck right at the water’s edge and turns off the engine.

“What is this?” I look around for a sign that maybe it’s a public park or something.

“My own private Idaho,” he says, clicking his tongue as he hops out of the truck, coming around to open my door, helping me down then reaching inside to grab the champagne. “I own the property. Had some ideas on what to do with it at one time. An apartment complex or an industrial park. But, it’s fucking pretty and in his city, places like this are rare, so I’ve just left it as is. For now.”

The sultry air wraps around me as his hand brushes down my hair. There’s crickets chirping and the traffic sound from the road has disappeared.

He holds up the bottle of champagne in his other hand.

“Oh, sorry, I don’t drink.” I lick my lips, expecting him to be disappointed but instead he nods and tosses the bottle over his head into the woods. “I don’t have, like, a drinking problem. I just… I hate the taste.”

It’s a lie. I’ve never had a drink. I’m just eighteen and I’m sort of a rule follower. Besides, I held back enough hair as my friends in high school puked after a night of fun. Not a good look. I’ll pass, thank you.

“I don’t drink either. At least not alcohol, but I do have a few other choices.”

He opens the back door of the truck, reaching up and pulling out four smallish bottles in his hands.

“Take your pick. Pomegranate is my favorite.”

“Is that Morrow’s Juice?” I step forward, grabbing one of the square glass bottles staring at the label. “I love this stuff. It’s like seven dollars a bottle.”

“It’s damn good. All I drink besides water.” He trails his eye down until they are locked on my crotch. “Until you.”

“What?” I ask, stepping forward, this whole night making me feel like something inside me has cracked open and I don’t care anymore. “Are you insinuating you’d like to drink from somewhere else?”

Scotch’s hand darts out and his fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me forward. “You being a tease, little sister?”

“Just asking a question. You avoiding the answer?” I challenge, this push-pull power play heady and tense but so fucking hot. He shakes his head, standing steady, pulling me by the hair closer, tracing the backs of his fingers down my sternum as my skin prickles and a shiver makes me close my eyes for a second.

“Nope. I just don’t like being questioned. I like my actions to speak for me.”

“Man of action. I like that.” I lick my lips as he releases my hair, only to reach out and take a handful of my breast like a melon he just bought at the market.

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