I shift in my seat. “I know I love you because the thought of being with anyone else—or you being with anyone else—just...it drives me fucking insane.” I swallow the bitterness in my throat. “All of those things...they’ve gotta count for something.”
A thick silence falls and all I can think about is begging her to tell me she loves me. I want to hear it more than anything—more than I want to live. I need to know that the last few years of my life—the life I’ve dedicated to finding a brother who doesn’t give a shit—hasn’t been a total waste.
“I feel the same, but...” She sighs, dropping her head back against her headrest. “I’ve never...God. I’m so pathetic.”
I release her hand and she pulls it back to shield her face.
“You’re definitely not pathetic, Kitten.”
She snorts, dropping her hands against her thighs with a slap. “Will you ever stop calling me that?”
“I don’t think so.” I laugh. “No.”
I’ve never been a pet name kind of guy. To be honest, the thought of them make me cringe, but she was too fun not to tease when I met her and it’s stuck.
She is Kitten.
She hates it, but that doesn’t matter.
“I’ve never said the words before.” She admits and the sadness in her voice hits me hard.
I shift in my seat again, angling my body towards her. “Never?”
“I grew up without parents and siblings. I’ve avoided any serious relationships and have never had the means to own a pet so no...never.”
Ah, so she has first time jitters. Nothing a little booze can’t fix. Turning in my seat, I reach behind it, stuffing in my hand into the pocket attached to the back. I remember seeing Ted stash a bottle of Vodka in there before we left. There’s nothing like a bottle of Russian water to loosen the tongue. I push deeper and my fingers graze the side of a cool bottle. Smiling, I wrap my fingers around the neck and pull it free.
“What are we going to do with that?”
I smile. Isn’t it obvious?
“We’re going to drink your first time jitters away.”
Emily quirks an eyebrow in the most mischievous of ways, making my blood sing. Fuck she’s beautiful.
“You know, this is all starting to sound a little like tenth grade.”
I arch a brow, matching hers. “Please tell me you did not drink Vodka and fuck in a car when you were in high school.”
Cringing, she nods as she pushes herself out of her chair and forces herself through the space between the front seats. With a squeeze and a huff, she’s drops onto the back seat.
“In the back of a truck with senior footballer Tommy Field and the smallest bottle of Vodka I’ve ever seen.”
Exhaling, she rests her feet on the back of the passenger seat.
“What, there weren’t any girls his age?”
She snickers, patting the space next to her. “Apparently not.”
Fucking sleaze. Then again, I can’t talk. If we went to the same school I’d have followed her around relentlessly. I would have had her and not in the back of a fucking truck.
Clenching the bottle in my hand, I join her on the back seat. We share the booze without talking, both of us reveling in the silence. Around us, the air grows warm and humid, coaxing Emily to ditch her jacket while I ditch my sweater. Admittedly, I’d be more relaxed if I knew the answer to the question that’s burning at the back of my mind. Tommy Field. Who was he to her? I can imagine what he looked like so vividly in my head. Broad shoulders, black slicked hair, dark eyes and a smug look to match. I hate him and I don’t even know the piece of shit.
I clear my throat. “You and Tommy...was he your first?”
She rakes her perfect, white teeth over her bottom lips, biting back an awkward smile.
“Yeah. He was.”
Yep. I hate the shit out of him. Has a time machine been invented yet? If so, how much will it cost me to go back in time and beat the shit out of this guy?
I take the bottle from her hands and fill my mouth with it. My head spins with the effects of the alcohol and I grit my teeth as I swallow. I hold the bottle in front of my face. How have we almost finished it? How long have we been sitting here?
She extends her hand and I return the bottle.
“How’d that pan out afterwards?” I ask.
“Afterwards?” She downs a mouthful and hisses with a shudder. “Afterwards I didn’t exist and Mr. Quarterback went back to his on again off again high school sweetheart.”
“Fucking asshole.”
It’s official. I’m going back in time to shove an unlubricated football up his dick hole.
She shrugs. “It is what it is. What about you? Where was your first time and what was her name?”
I drop my head against the seat. How long ago was it? Too long to remember the girl’s last name.
“Her name was Melanie Something and it was on a beach.”
Emily turns in her seat, stretching her long legs across mine. Unable to resist, I rest my hand on her thigh.
“A beach? How romantic.”
I roll my eyes. “Sex on a beach is overrated. It was fucking horrible and anything but romantic.”
“How so?”
There is nothing, and I mean nothing, romantic about chaffing. The whole ordeal was a mess—and not to mention it lasted less than six minutes. Teenage nerves ruin lives.
“Don’t ask.”
I peer at Emily. Her eyes are wide and her face is lit up by both amusement and excitement.
“Were you drinking?” She asks, handing me the booze.
“No.” I take a sip. “I’m pretty sure every teenage boy wants to remember when they first have sex and exactly what it felt like the next morning.”
Emily shifts closer to me, scooting forward until her ass touches the side of my thigh. “Did you enjoy it?”
I blink at her.
“I had sex...with a girl...for the first time in my life. Of course I enjoyed it.” I clench the bottle in my hand. “Was Tommy—a douche baggy name, by the way—was he good? Did you enjoy it?”
With a single laugh, she shakes her head. “For months I worked the whole thing up in my head before he asked me out on a date. It was going to be romantic and nice—and it was going to feel better than it did when I touched myself.”
“Was it?”
She slaps her hand over her face. “Oh, God, no. It was horrible. At least your six minutes was still double Tommy’s time—not to mention it felt like I was being punched in the cervix with a cucumber.”
I laugh—we laugh—and the sound mixes so perfectly, her light tones meshing with my deep.
“No one has made me feel as good as you make me feel.” She murmurs, raking her teeth over her bottom lip as the last giggle bubbles up her throat.
My heart ceases to beat as she leans in. All it takes is a gentle brush of her lips against mine and lungs refuse to function properly.
She plants a kiss on my lower lip. “I love the way you make me feel.”
“Almost.” I whisper, kissing her lip in return. “Say the other line.”
Her lips curl into a mischievous grin. I can’t take my eyes off them until she lowers her face, disappearing under my jaw line, and kisses my neck in the most delicious of ways. I tilt my head offering her more skin as she presses her warm, gentle lips in a trail all the way up to the lobe of my ear.
“I want you to force it out of me.” She whispers, finishing with another kiss.
I groan, tempted to rip open the fabric that hides her body from me and come on every pore, hair follicle and freckle on her body.
“Not in the car, Kitten.” I tell her, gripping her shoulders and pushing her back. “You’re too good for the backseat of a car.”
My stare drops to her chest. The rise and fall of her breasts mesmerizes me—hypnotizing me to take back what I said. She can sit on me. She can ride me...fuck me into oblivion. This seat makes it so easy to do...makes it so easy to just...fucking...do it.
Emily moistens her top lip.
“Then take me to bed.”