One second, Edgar’s standing beside me, turning my knuckles to dust. The next, he’s on the ground, moaning and clutching his wrist.
Derrick’s arm goes around my waist. He practically lifts me off my feet as he starts toward where most of the vehicles are parked at the far edge of the field.
Behind us, Edgar shouts, “Fuck you, Olsen. I’ll fuck her as soon as you’re out of town, shit for brains. If you were keeping your girl happy, she wouldn’t have come begging me for a ride.”
“That isn’t what happened. You came after me,” I shout over my shoulder, but Derrick shakes his head and snaps, “Stop. Let it go. He’s not worth the effort.”
“But that isn’t what happened,” I insist. “I just wanted a ride from someone who didn’t treat me like a kid.”
“Well, you would have gotten that. Though, from what I’ve heard, Edgar doesn’t last long. Five minutes, tops. And he likes to take the condom off in the middle of things without telling his partner what he’s up to. That’s what happened to my friend, Carrie. Now she’s nine months pregnant with that shithead’s baby and trying to figure out how to pay for everything alone.”
“Oh my God,” I mutter. “That’s horrible. He just…took it off? Without telling her?”
“Yeah. It’s considered rape in some states, but not here. Not yet.”
My stomach snarls. “I wasn’t going to have sex with him. I was going to ask him to take me home as soon as we got close to town.”
“And I’m sure he would have done just that,” Derrick says, sarcasm dripping from the words. “He’s such a nice guy and all.” He exhales before adding in a gentler tone, “How’s your hand?”
“Fine,” I say, my throat so tight I can barely force the word out.
“We can grab some ice at the gas station on the way to your house if you want,” he says as we near his Jeep. “And…maybe a slushy? My treat?”
I dig my heels in and throw out my hand, stopping him from opening the door. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t try to be nice to me and make things better. Things are never going to be better.” I turn, pulling away from his grip on my waist to face him head-on. “But just FYI, I would never have said the things I said, if you hadn’t stood so close to me for so long. So don’t act like I’m some kind of crazy child who pulled the idea that you might want to kiss me out of her ass.”
“I know that you think—”
“Because I didn’t,” I cut in, my voice trembling as the tears I beat back earlier threaten once more. “There were signals. And I’m not crazy.”
Suddenly Derrick’s hands are on either side of my shoulders, pinning me against the Jeep as he says in a low, urgent voice, “I know you’re not, but I can’t kiss you, Harlow. I can’t, no matter how much I might want to. You’re my little sister’s best friend. And I’m too fucking old for you.”
“But you…” I trail off, my mouth going dry as I realize what he’s said, what he’s confessed. “But you…want to?”
“I want to so fucking bad, it’s killing me,” he whispers, sending electricity racing across my skin. I suck in a breath and hold it as he leans even closer, until his lips are inches from mine, and I can feel his body heat warm against my mouth. “But I refuse to be that guy, the one who takes advantage of you.”
And then, like she’s been waiting in the wings all along, ready to take over, my Inner Seductress whispers, “Then let me take advantage of you instead.” A beat later, my lips are on Derrick’s and my heart is in my throat.
For a second, I think he’s going to push me away.
His body stiffens, and his lips are firm and motionless against mine.
But then, it’s like something snaps inside of him. A beat later, his hand is cradling the back of my head, dragging me closer as his mouth comes alive.
His tongue strokes against mine with a groan of relief I feel everywhere, from my tingling lips to my curling toes and every sizzling inch of skin in between. He wraps his other arm around my waist again, pulling me against him as I twine my arms around his neck and return the kiss, my tongue sparring with his as the taste of floral hops from the beer he was drinking earlier and an earthy, salty taste that is all Derrick floods through my mouth.
In seconds, my nipples are aching with the need to be touched and my panties are soaked. I’ve been wet before, obviously—my ex and I did our fair share of steaming up the windows in the back seat of his Mustang and Chris was a good-looking guy—but I’ve never been this turned on, this hungry for more than a kiss or a hand down the front of my panties.