Page 42 of The Hallows Queen

I tighten my hand, leaning forward to speak against her lips. “You’re the one who dropped your location.”

She smiles wickedly, but I’m holding her throat hard enough that she can’t say anything back, she just hums against my palm and stares at me.

I kiss her lips once and pull away. “It’s okay to want me, beautiful. That doesn’t make you like everyone else who wants me too.”

Her chest shakes with a laugh, and I squeeze her throat one more time before dropping the hold, letting her talk.

“You’re a distraction,” she says, leaning back to look at me through her lashes. “It wouldn’t bother me one way or another if I never saw you again.”

I hate that I can’t tell if she’s bluffing. I can’t read anything on her face, and it pisses me off. I grab her face between my hand, squeezing her jaw hard, and her eyes flare with heat. “Don’t fuck with me.”

She grins the best she can while I’m holding her face. “Poor little rich boy doesn’t like not being the centerpiece of someone’s desire? Does it make you feel small that you aren’t the reason my world spins?”

My blood bubbles with rage, so I move without thinking, flipping her onto the sand on her front and smacking her ass hard. She screams, and I do it again, loving the sound. I slap her ass three more times before she’s curling her back and grinding her hips, making a satisfied smile pull up my lips.

Her chest is heaving as I slide my fingers under her bikini and stroke along the opening of her pussy, feeling the wetness that’s collecting there.

She moans, and I laugh. “You can tell me all the bullshit you want, Penelope. But your pussy gives you away.”

I slam two fingers inside of her, pulling a cry from her lips.

“Hayden,”she cries as I fuck her with my hand. “What if someone sees?”

I lick up her back while I keep impaling her on my fingers. “Then you better come quick.”

* * *

“You’re crazy, aren’t you?”

Penelope and I are lying on the blanket I brought on the soft sand. The sun is long gone, the sky a crimson black, with speckles of silver and white, and the moon is full above our heads. Wind is blowing lightly, making goosebumps multiply on my skin.

I turn my head to look at her through the darkness and laugh. “Definitely.”

“I hate how much it turns me on,” she admits, turning onto her side to face me.

I admire the shape of her face, the light freckles sprinkled over her nose, her thick eyelashes that spiderweb over her face when she blinks, and I hate how much I want to reach out and trace them with my finger. I want to memorize her features, tattoo them on my brain to return to whenever I close my eyes.

I don’t miss the fact that this is the first time in a while I’ve felt peaceful. There’s no anxiety squeezing my lungs, no dark cloud over my head telling me to pop a pill and numb it all.

I roll over onto my side as well to get closer to her. “Tell me something.”

“Like what?” she asks, her mouth curling at the sides.

“Where are you from?” I ask, acting as if I don’t know the answer already.

“Here.”

“How have I never met you before now? Luxington isn’t exactly the biggest town,” I muse, running a hand down her bare side.

“I just moved back here from Washington, but I grew up in the area. What about you?” she asks, looking up at me.

I wonder how much of the truth I should tell. I don’t want to give away the fact I’m not the age she’s assumed I am. So, I decide on something simple. “Born in NYC, moved here when I was a baby.”

“And your parents? They’re still living here?”

“No.”

She stares at me, probably trying to read between the lines of my answer. Before she can speak again, I do. “Your parents still here?”

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