Page 49 of Faded Gray Lines
Ten minutes later, I broke the awkward silence. “I didn’t ask for a white knight, you know.”
“No? Well, good thing I’m not one.”
“I can’t believe you just picked me up and carried me out of there.”
“Why not? It’s not like it’s the first time,” he said, tossing a smirk over his shoulder. “Only, you were sober and modest back then.”
I tried holding onto my anger, but once I looked down at the slutty-looking uniform peeking out from under the ridiculously large trench coat, I laughed. “It’s no orange party dress, that’s for sure.”
“Yellow.”
“Huh?”
“Your dress was yellow,” he mused, changing lanes.
“You remember the color of my dress?”
He nodded. “I remember everything about that night, Leighton. You looked like a fallen angel. I’d always believed in hell, but you made me believe heaven existed too.”
His confession unleashed a part of myself I’d long locked away. In a few words, he’d ripped down my walls and shattered my self-control.
If he thought I was an angel, I might as well show him just how far I’d fallen.
“Pull over,” I ordered, unbuckling my seatbelt and tearing off the trench coat.
A panicked look crossed his face, and he jerked the wheel, turning the Tahoe into an abandoned parking lot. Slamming the gear shift into park, he unfastened his own seatbelt. “Fuck, if you’re going to throw up, make sure you...what the hell?”
Before I could change my mind, I crawled over the console into his lap and slammed my lips against his. Catching him mid-sentence, he hardly had a moment to react before I pushed my tongue inside, weaving my fingers in his long hair.
At first, Mateo was unresponsive, but the minute I circled the tip of my tongue around his, he let out a growl so low and primitive, I wasn’t sure if he was about to kiss me or kill me. I blinked, and he attacked, grabbing the sides of my face and deepening an already frantic kiss.
Back up.
My surge of seduction had run its course. Although I started this, I was no longer in control, and I couldn’t have that.
Time to redirect.
Releasing his hair, I braced my palms on the headrest, brushing kisses against the outside of his ear. “Did you have any remorse the first time you killed someone?”
“No,” he groaned. “Remorse is a useless emotion. Kill or be killed—that’s the basic law of my world, Leighton. Life is expendable. No one’s an exception.”
Shifting back a little, I caught his eye. “Want to know a secret?”
“Fuuuck.” Gritting his teeth, he nodded, the added pressure on his erection causing it to throb.
This is crazy. This is the alcohol talking. Don’t say another word.
Leaning in, I whispered, “I think I agree.”
Shock flickered in his eyes then quickly faded into darkness. “Let me ask you a question,” he coaxed, rubbing a finger against the tight denim between my legs. “Did you ever wonder what it would’ve been like?”
I whimpered, grinding against his hand. “What?”
“If things had been different. If we’d met that night and left town, I’d have been the only one, Star. The first and the last.”
His lips claimed mine in a possessive kiss, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed him to feel as lust-drunk as I did. Reaching between us, I cupped him, stroking his length through the confines of his pants. He let out a hiss and bucked his hips. Emboldened by his response, I released the button on his jeans and pulled down the zipper, his cock springing free from the opening in his boxers. Glancing down at how hard he was, I bit my lip to keep from groaning.
I feathered my fingers down his shaft, and he grabbed my wrist, stilling my movement. “Dios mío,” he groaned, closing his eyes. “¿Estás tratando de matarme?”
