My fingers lightly ran over the base of his neck where the ends of hair curled.
I told myself it was accidental.
But it was a lie.
I wanted to touch him. To test myself. To test him.
I had to know if this thing between us was just one-sided. I needed to know if he was as affected by me as I was by him.
“What are you doing?” he asked gruffly, turning his face toward mine. That was his mistake, but I took advantage of the situation, banking on his reaction to be just that.
My face was in direct line with his jaw and brushed over the area, bringing our lips a fraction apart. Our breaths mingled. His eyes darkened.
I continued to play with the damp ends of his hair. “Nothing. I was just curious.”
With a growl, he stared hard at me. “You don’t want to toy with me, Firefly.”
“Aren’t you the one who is toying with me?” I countered in a voice just over a whisper.
He set me down on the passenger seat, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his arms caged me in on either side. “Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?”
The rum was definitely impairing my better judgment. My gaze dropped to his lips, and I lifted my hand, running the tip of my nail across his chin. The urge to touch him kept pestering me. It was too strong to ignore. “Let me know when you figure it out, because I’d really like to forget you.”
“Liar.” Something flashed in his eyes, beyond the sparkle of desire. Anger. Scary anger, and he was looking for someone to punish.
I didn’t know why I did it. Perhaps I understood that kind of rage that simmered just under the surface, building and building until you exploded with it. That sort of anger could be a prison of its own, it could be poisonous. He needed an outlet, somewhere to release all that violence swimming inside him before he hurt someone.
That’s what I offered him when I crushed my lips to his. I’d gladly absorb the storm brewing inside him. It gave me a reason to lose myself, to escape my demons.
What a fucking pair we were.
He didn’t push me away, but he also wasn’t giving me what I wanted, that reckless heat. I wanted to lose control, even for just a minute. So I grew bolder, running my tongue along his bottom lip before I took it between my teeth. I smiled as he sucked in a breath, his lips parting as he cursed against my mouth.
Then he consumed me, his tongue invading my mouth, tangling with my mine. Something happened each time our lips touched. We exploded. Nothing mattered—nothing but the taste of him inside my mouth. His fingers moved to my thighs, grabbing them as he turned me in the seat, tugging me toward him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, securing him to me.
It seemed like a lifetime since he kissed me this morning, but my mind hadn’t forgotten. It also didn’t care about his reasons for kissing me. Later, when I wasn’t buzzing from his lips and the rum, I might remember why kissing Brock Taylor was a bad idea.
His fingers dove into my hair, gripping a handful before yanking my head back. It was just rough enough to incite a flare of lust between my legs. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, and then ground his lips against mine again, his words fluttering over me like paper flying in the wind.
He had that right.
I also didn’t care.
He pulled away a second time, pressing his forehead against mine. “This isn’t supposed to happen,” he rasped.
“Me kissing you?” My voice came out breathless. I traced the edge of his face, pleased to see that some of the tension had left his body. His eyes were clearer as well, less destructive, but they were dark with hunger now.
He was beautiful.
Shaking his head, he exhaled and unwrapped my legs from around him, careful of my ankle. “You can’t keep doing that.”
Chills broke over me at the loss of his body. “I’ll try to remember that the next time your lips assault me in the school parking lot.”
My eyes drifted shut as the door closed and Brock got in on the other side. The Range Rover’s engine purred, and I tried to bank the ache at my core. Why did it have to be him?
Why couldn’t it have been Fynn?
That nagging urge to climb into Brock’s lap remained the entire drive to my house. Neither of us spoke as he drove, and by the time he pulled into my driveway, I was ready to run from the car… or lock the fucking doors and finish what I started.