Gregory led her to her car door and then caged her in by draping one arm over the roof of the small, silver hatchback Fiat and positioning his body in front of her, while her back was to the driver’s door. He maneuvered her so quickly and expertly that she barely had time to react.
“Do you want to follow me home?” he asked softly. His free hand came up to cup her cheek, and she barely stopped herself from shuddering at the cold, clammy feel of his palm against her skin. His thumb ran over her lips, and she swallowed back a surge of actual nausea.
“It’s getting late,” she prevaricated. “I should get home.”
“It’s our third date, Lia,” he said with a small smile, pressing closer. She could feel every sharp angle of his bony frame against her front, and when he actually had the nerve to grind his pelvis up against her . . . yep, that was his penis.
If her instinctive reaction to feeling his hard penis rubbing up against her was eww, then he was probably not the man for her. She tried to move her own hips away from his, but the car door limited her movements, and what had been an attempt to get away from him instead felt like a reciprocal thrust. He groaned.
“Oh yes, babe,” he husked and mashed his lips up against hers. And then shoved his tongue down her throat. It took everything she had not to gag. Her eyes were wide open in horror and fixed on his passionate face so very, very close to hers. He had a fine smattering of blackheads on his forehead and a long, curly hair growing out of the mole just to the right of his left eye.
His hand moved down to her shoulder and then to her breast, squeezing too hard as he continued to thrust against her. When that cold, moist hand deftly slipped down her bodice and under her bra to cup her breast and thumb her unresponsive nipple, she finally snapped out of her horrified haze.
“Gregory, stop,” she said firmly, flattening her hands against his bony chest and pushing. He was surprisingly strong and resisted at first. “Stop.”
He finally released his hold on her, and his hand thankfully oozed its way out of her bodice. He was breathing heavily, his garlicky breath washing over her face in rapid pants. If he’d planned on sticking his tongue down her throat by the end of the evening, he could at least have refrained from the extra garlic on his pasta.
“God, that was good. Let’s go to my place, babe.” If anybody had placed wagers on his endearment of choice, babe would have been the last thing Lia chose. It sounded odd coming from him. Then again, the entire evening had taken a turn for the surreal, and Lia just wanted to escape.
“I can’t. I have to go home.”
“What, you have a curfew? Will your daddy ground you if you’re home late?” he asked mockingly, and her eyes widened at the sarcasm. Well, Gregory had certainly devolved into an a-hole in no time at all.
“I—” Her phone tinkled discreetly, and she thankfully latched onto that excuse to look away from his flushed face. She kept her eyes carefully averted from the modest tent that was still pitched at the front of his trousers and opened her bag to retrieve her phone from its usual pocket. She peered at the screen and heaved a relieved sigh.
“It’s my sister. I have to get this.” She swiped at the screen. “Daff?”
“Lia?” Daff sounded completely harassed. “I have a huge favor to ask you. I bought some groceries to stock Mason’s cabin with and I meant to drop them off and freshen up the place a bit. You know, put on bedding and open windows and stuff? But I forgot about Charlie’s PTA meeting—why have a meeting during the school holiday anyway? If I was a teacher, I’d want the time off. Anyway, I promised Spencer I’d go with him. And it’s running late. I won’t be able to get it done tonight, and Sam Brand could arrive tomorrow or the day after. I don’t want any of the food to spoil, and I wanted everything to be ready for him. Please could you—?”
“Of course,” Lia said hurriedly. She caught Gregory’s eyes and shook her head in fake apology. “I’ll do it right now.”
“Oh my God, thank you! You’re a lifesaver.” Lia tried not to wonder why Daisy had asked Daff to do it for her. Lia was usually the reliable one, the one everybody recruited when they wanted to get things done, and she couldn’t prevent the small surge of resentment at Daff suddenly becoming everybody’s go-to girl.
“The groceries are at Spencer’s place. They’re still bagged and in the kitchen. The key to the house is under the porch swing canopy. The cabin is unlocked—I stopped by earlier to make sure the electricity and plumbing are working.”