Page 23 of The Criminal

“I told the dealer to expect you this afternoon.” I fished in my dress pocket for the key fob.

“Lee, I’ve got this.” He held out his hand.

“What does that mean?”

He waggled the fingers of his open hand, expecting me to pass over the key. “I said I’ll take care of it. I know a guy.”

Let me count the ways I hated that phrase. Men like Tony and Uncle Jimmy used “I know a guy” to cover a multitude of sins and inadequacies. It was a way to tell me not to worry my pretty little head—condescending mansplaining at its finest.

“No. My car. It goes to the Bentley dealer.” I poked his chest with the key fob.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You know what? Forget it.” I ground the key hard into his sternum, trying to push him out of my way so I could stalk back into the store. His help wasn’t required.

“My guy will do it in half the time. For less money.” He put one hand on my hip to keep me from stepping around him. His touch burned through the thin material of my dress, tendrils of heat unfurling up toward my heart and down lower, deeper in my belly.

“Let me guess. He owes you?” I tried to ignore the heat spiraling through me, a mix of anger and passion growing brighter and stronger between us.

“Yes. He owes me.” He clamped his teeth closed after the snarled words. A tendon along his jaw bulged.

I laughed. It was an ugly sound, laden with years of mistrust and condescension. I shoved all my weight behind the key digging into his chest. He was immovable.

“Would you stop?” He grabbed my wrist, the one holding the key, and twisted it behind my back.

The cynical laugh died trapped in my tight chest.

The move pulled my body flush to his, crushing us together. His labored breath puffed over my cheek, and his manly, old-fashioned scent filled my nose. He was all I could feel and see.

Every warning light I had was lit up. This was out of control. I was ready to, to—

Derek’s hand left my hip and tangled in my hair. A groan of frustration that matched the seething tide building inside me ripped from him. His mouth crashed down on mine. The kiss, unexpected and hard, burned through me. Our teeth clacked, and he tugged my hair until I opened for him. His tongue swept in—an invasion.

I rose to the fight. Writhing against him, thrusting my tongue into his mouth. It was a battle that neither of us was willing to lose.

My girlhood fantasies hadn’t prepared me for this. Derek consumed me. He held me tight, his mouth and body welded to mine. Our anger morphed into a beautifully savage passion.

The kiss lasted forever and for no time at all.

We broke apart. The kiss had stained his mouth red with my lipstick.

I was burning up. The heat between us was a living thing neither of us controlled.

We didn’t speak, our harsh breathing saying enough. A distant car alarm sounded from somewhere in the parking lot, a faint warning siren—too little, too late.

I forced my aching fingers, which had dug into his broad back, to go slack. Holding his gaze was impossible. I focused on the top button of his shirt.

He untangled each strand of my hair from his fingers, protecting my scalp from the slightest tug. His concern was a stark contrast to our brutal kiss. It made the lump in my throat grow bigger and harder. The change in gears had me off balance.

He let go of my wrist and stripped the key fob from my lax fingers. Without a look or a word, he turned to my car.

I pressed my fingers to my still throbbing lips. The farthest thing from my mind, as I watched him pull away, was the stupid tire.

Chapter 11

Derek

Lee’scarwasaspectacular vehicle, sleek and responsive. My good reflexes and an ingrained knowledge of the Miami streets were the only things that saved it from becoming the victim of a car accident. My brain was on autopilot.

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