Page 45 of Beautifully Ruined
There’s a car outside the bar. I don’t know how it got the spot, but it did, and the motor’s humming. I approach, even as the door opens.
“Get in.” The voice sends shivers down my spine.
I slide into the backseat, pulling the door shut behind me.
And right before Cade can kiss me, music blasts loud for a full second before going silent.
Enzo turns in the driver’s seat to face me. “Do you always approach random cars and get in with any old order?”
Cade secures my seatbelt, muttering unkind things about his friend beneath his breath.
“Because I’ve already prepared myself to you calling out my name when you’re with him, and I’m not looking forward to having to get used to another girl…”
Heat burns like radiating fire in my cheeks, and I look at Cade.
He shakes his head. “He’s an ass.”
Enzo snickers to himself. “But one she wants when she’s with you.”
I tick the points off on my fingers, “Number one, I recognized your car. Two, I recognized Cade. Three, I’m not even remotely interested in you.”
“She’s fighting it. Typical…” But he’s laughing as he pulls out into traffic, and Cade finally claims my lips.
He’s mouth is wet, warm, and divine, and the constraints of the belt only add a sprinkling of spice to it as his tongue dances with mine in a way that’s way too intimate and not enough.
I don’t know whether to rip his clothes off or just sink down into him where I can lose myself completely.
But Cade solves that dilemma by ending the kiss.
And I drag myself out of the dreaminess. “You’re following me and my follower?”
Cade’s smile is slow, and my stomach dances.
My heart throbs.
“I sent Adrian back to what he was doing. And no, you don’t want to know.”
I do, but I stay quiet.
“Because we had a meeting in the area, it made sense to pick you up.”
“You know… the subway’s faster.”
Enzo scoffs. “That’s what I said.”
Cade holds my face in his hands. “More time for this.”
And he kisses me all over again.
“What’s her name?”
We walk into Enzo’s, and Cade sits me down to tell me what he found.
Everything. Not much.
“Gianna Walsh.”
My mind goes to that day in that cell. “Where are you, Gianna?”
