He gives me a sexy little smile.
“So . . . should I bring my handcuffs, too?”
I eye him then. “Don’t push it, Officer Asher.”
He winks at me before I head out the door. “Of course not, Miss Hendricks. I would hate to get another detention.”
Chapter Seventeen
Commencement
I guess you define some dates by dinner. Or a movie. Our first official date was a really long walk.
“Do you think it’s cliché to head to the harbor for a first date?” Smith asks as we round the corner of the Baltimore Aquarium. We stop for a second to watch a few boats nearby as they rocked gently in their slips. I smile at him, then shake his head.
“Nope. Not at all.” Smith’s mouth kicks up on one side. “Damn. I was sort of going for literary standards here—walk on the water, kissing in the moonlight. All that bullshit.”
I laugh as he puts both hands on my waist and brings me closer to him.
“I’m not sure the word ‘bullshit’ usually factors into the sweeping romances of literature.”
He shrugs, still smiling.
“I guess we’re just breaking the mold then, Hyacinth.”
I grin up at him. “I guess so.”
When I rock up on my toes to kiss Smith Asher—in public, in front of people—it feels as magical as any fairy tale.
“So, now what? Any requests?” Smith’s voice is gruff, and when I look at him, he shoots me a sexy half smile.
I shrug a little, feeling my cheeks redden, and I’m glad that we’re in the mostly-dark of the evening.
“Honestly?”
“Sure.”
“I’d love to head back to my apartment . . . ,” I say, fiddling with my purse strap. Smith wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him again.
“Your wish is my command.”
The drive back to my place is quiet. There’s low music playing on the radio but I’m not paying one bit of attention. My entire body feels attuned to Smith’s—so much so that when we finally park outside my apartment, I honestly think I might actually burst into flames. Instead, he opens his door and gets out of the truck, coming around to the passenger’s side to open my door, too. I slide out and he immediately cages me in against the side of the truck.
“Let me be clear, Hyacinth Hendricks. I have every intention of staying here all night. And I have every intention of not letting you sleep while I’m here. I’m going to do every single thing I can think of to you, with you, and for you.”
Smith runs a finger along the deep V of my dress’s collar and rests it just above my cleavage.
“So, before we head upstairs,” he murmurs, leaning in closer to my ear, “I want to clarify that this is an acceptable course of action.”
I swallow hard, then lick my lips.
“Lead the way.”
His grin is a thousand watts when he tilts back to look in my eyes.
“You know what? There is nowhere in the world I’d rather be than right here, right now, with you.”
And I actually believe him. Smith’s done his best to be honest with me, or as honest as he can be, about his job. He told me about growing up with Eric and how much he wanted to be like him. He explained what it’s like to work undercover and how he had to “drop out” of Franklin to really get J. D. to trust him.
“I needed to be like him,” he’d sort of growled. “And that was the hardest part. After what he did to you—all I wanted to do every second I was near him was punch his fucking lights out.”
But, right now, neither of us is thinking about J. D. Fenton or undercover operatives or anything but each other. I climb the stairs to my floor and I swear I can feel his gaze, branding me with his hot stare. I want to squirm, want to crawl out of my clothes as soon as I walk in the apartment door.
But I don’t. Instead, I unlock it, push it open, and stop dead in my tracks.
Holy. Shit.
There are hyacinths everywhere.
They’re in pots along the kitchen pass-through. They’re in jars and vases around the living room. There’s even a small plant next to the front door.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Smith slips in front of me and tilts my chin up to look at him.
“Happy Graduation, Cyn.”
I blink at him. “You did this?”
He shrugs. “Carson helped a lot actually—when you and Rainey left for the ceremony, she let me in to arrange them.”
I pivot slowly in a circle, taking in everything—every blossom, every stem—and I have to blink back tears.
“Is it too much?”
I glance over my shoulder at Smith, who looks a little worried now. I shake my head.
“Are you kidding?”
I walk toward him and wrap my arms around his waist. He pulls me closer, and for a long moment we just stand there, wrapped up in each other and breathing the same spring-scented air.
“It’s perfect,” I finally say, my words muffled against his shirt. “You’re perfect.”
He snorts softly, then pulls back to look down at me. “Not even close, baby. But you make me want to be.”
He dips his head then and captures my mouth with his. I let my hands slide up his sides and over his shoulders. The muscles flex beneath my fingertips and I sigh into his mouth.
Smith sort of groans then and takes my mouth with even more vigor, reminding me of exactly what tonight is going to entail. His tongue flicks against my lips, questing inside and tasting everything I have to offer him. I press against him, my breasts feeling heavy and full, and I let the friction between our bodies only extend that aching need.
His kisses travel to my neck, and I tilt back to give him better access. As he nips and licks and sucks my skin, he lets his hands coast down my stomach and thighs, then grips the sheer material of my dress. Second later, he’s pulled it up and over my head, and I’m standing in my living room in nothing but a black bra and panties.
“Fuck me,” Smith mutters as his eyes coast over my body.
Yeah, that’s the idea.
He saunters toward me and, before I can take a breath, his lips are coasting along the crests of my breasts and my mouth is nipping at his bare skin of his shoulder. I scrape my teeth along a prominent, taut tendon along his neck and Smith groans. For a second, he pauses, his eyes dark with desire, then he hauls me up by my hips. I wrap my legs around his waist without even thinking twice.
Once we make it to my bed, he tosses me in the middle and I want to laugh, but his expression is so fierce, so full of want, that I can only lick my lips. He yanks his shirt off the rest of the way, then flicks the top button of his dress pants open. His eyebrows lift as I start to undo the zipper.
Mere moments later, Smith is on top of me then, and the space between us is nonexistent, just the way I like it. His bare skin is pressed against mine, and I move my hands behind his neck to pull his mouth to mine. Seconds later, though, he’s got them pinned to the pillow on either side of my head.
“I think you’ve had enough ‘upper hand’ in this relationship,” Smith murmurs, dragging his lips along my jaw. “And I think it’s about time I taught you a lesson or two.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really now?”
“Yeah. Really. Now.”
And then, without warning, he hauls me up and over until I’m lying on my stomach. Smith’s body comes back over mine and I can feel his hardness pressing against my lower back.
“This,” he says, placing my hands back near my head and lacing his fingers through mine, “is your first lesson, Miss Hendricks.”
“And what’s my assignment?” I ask, my words half muffled by the pillow. Smith chuckles.
“To try to lay still. No matter what.”
I’m about to say something sarcastic when I feel his tongue run over my skin. Goose bumps break out along my back and I have to force myself not to shiver.
“See, here’s the thing,” Smith says, pausing to place a kiss on each of my shoulder blades, “I think we need to have a more equitable relationship. As my teacher, you got to call all of the shots.”