He jams the offending hand in the front pocket of his jeans, and sighs. “Tell me, Ryan. Every time I get near you, you panic. What is it you’re worried about?” He steps in close and wears a cloud of smoke.

“Aside from the fact you know I have a boyfriend, and yet here we are?”

“Aside from that,” he says.

I take a long drag of my cigarette and puff the next lungful of smoke to the side. It doesn’t help settle my nerves any. “I guess I’m afraid of the unknown.”

He tips his head to the side and frowns, asking me silently to explain.

“I don’t know if the risk is worth the reward. What happens after this?”

He takes the cigarette gently from my fingers, dropping it to the ground and stamping it out. “What would you like to happen?”

“Where would you like me to start?” My heart can’t take the stress, my flesh alight as he slowly brings his head back up to level with mine.

A single finger traces a line from my forehead, over my nose, and down to my chin, lingering on my lips. “This face,” he says. “These lips. Beautiful. Fucked me up from the minute I first laid eyes on you.”

I drop my chin, well aware that without my makeup I’m no ten. He hasn’t seen me first thing in the morning, for fuck’s sake. How could he mean what he says? It’s a ruse, a ploy to get me where he wants me. How do I know that this isn’t just some conquest with him? That I won’t become a show of power when he sticks it up Gunter?

Because he wouldn’t tell Gunter. That would be certain death—you know it and he knows it. “Whatever you say.”

“Don’t you believe me?” He uses the same finger to gently coax my chin up. “Don’t you think you’re beautiful, Ryan?”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?” He’s puzzled. Bless him.

“Because . . .” Why? I don’t see what would make me so special over anyone else when I look in the mirror? The excuse sounds lame, even in my head.

He brings both hands to my jaw, cupping my face and running his thumbs over my cheekbones. “Which one’s your car, darlin’?”

I smile, snapping out of the daze he had me in. Ask me how I feel about myself, and I choke, but ask me about my car and I could chew your ear off for hours. I can do this. He resumes walking beside me as I lead us down the row. We come to a stop beside my ride, and I hold a hand out. “Here she is.”

His eyes widen as he takes her in. “Fuck, woman, I think I just fell in love.”

“She is a great-looking classic.” I look at my Camaro with the same adoration I did the first time I spied her glossy black paintwork in the flesh. Dark, dangerous and all muscle—my weaknesses in men and cars.

“I wasn’t just talkin’ about the ride.” Bronson’s eyes move to rove me in the same way he did the car. “You ownin’ that? It’s fuckin’ sexy as hell.”

I fidget under the scrutiny, unsettled with how affected his words alone make me. Shyness is a weakness I’m not accustomed to. It’s crippling. I don’t like being vulnerable like that.

“Anyway,” I say a little too briskly, dipping my head to search for my keys, “how about I show you under the—”

My ass smacks into the side of the trunk, my bag falling to the ground as two strong hands pin my hips to the bodywork of my car. “You can stop me any time you want”—a whimper slips from my mouth as he fists my hair, yanking hard to offer my throat to him—“but I’m gettin’ tired of holding back.” Warm lips caress the points of my jugular, grumbles of appreciation dotting their way up to my jaw, which I reciprocate tenfold. His lips crash over mine, and I soften to him, teasing, pulling. “Everythin’ about you,” he murmurs close to my face after pulling away.  “Your eyes, your smile, that curvy fuckin’ ass of yours—it’s all I can think about. I want more, Ryan. I want to get to know you.”

I panic. He can’t. We can’t. Not when I’ve been working on getting the truth for so many years. It would all have been for nothing if I blew it before I got to Eddie.

His smell fills my nose as I rub my cheek over his jaw. Skin on skin, the intimacy of touch—the things I’ve always had, but never wanted like I do now. I shouldn’t indulge like this, I should pull away, but it’s addicting, consuming. His gaze tracks me as I explore his face with my fingertips, the roughness of his stubble and the contrasting softness of the skin under his jaw. I catch him staring, questioning me. Impatient for the answer, I press forward, ignoring the searing pain from his firm grip still in my hair, and seek out his mouth again. All my hesitations, my worries, and concerns—they’ve all been shot to hell. I’m lost in what real attraction feels like, devouring it like a starved animal. He matches my kiss, pull for tug, bringing my bottom lip between his as I do the same to his top.

We pause, breaking free for a moment and staring into each other’s eyes, just to be sure. It’s what I want, I silently tell him, pushing forward again as his hold in my hair loosens. We kiss again, starting the same, but soon pushing harder. He tilts his head ever so slightly, and I mirror him, widening my mouth to allow his tongue entrance. Nothing I imagined compares to this—the real thing. My hands wander his torso, running over the ridges of his stomach, feeling them deepen as he sucks in a breath, stealing mine. His fingers flex and the grip on my hip borders on painful. I flinch, breaking the moment between us. He pulls back, his hands dropping away.

“I’m sorry.” His breathing comes short and fast. “I . . . kind of lost control.”

With my chest heaving, I grab hold of his shirt, swinging him off balance and against the car, swapping our positions. My gaze fixes on his lips, red and puffy from my assault. The sight only makes me want more—so I take it while I can, a war waging inside of me. “We . . . can’t . . . do this . . . here,” I murmur between kisses, groaning as he drags his mouth over my chin, licking the sensitive point of my throat. “It’s too risky.”

“Fuck, darlin’.” He lifts his head, working his way back up to drag my bottom lip into his mouth one last time. “You meanin’ to make me wait?”

A shiver jolts his body as my tongue traces a line along the shell of his ear. “Patience,” I whisper.

He groans, capturing my mouth again for a brief yet passionate exchange. “I’ve never had much of that.”

My hands on his chest, I give a push to back myself up. “There are men here who’d gut you for touching me. It’s fucking suicide to carry on like we are.”

“So let’s go somewhere else.” His eyes are lazy and lust-filled. He’s clearly not thinking with his brain.

“Can you just focus?” I snap.

He frowns, scrubbing a hand over his face, and hooking his finger in the neck of his T-shirt. “Sorry, girl, but you’ve got me fuckin’ worked up.”

“You’re not the only one,” I say with a crooked eyebrow, shifting between my feet to rub my thighs together. “But I’d kind of like to keep you alive long enough to have more than one go at you.” I steal a look at him as he frowns down at the grass under our feet. “What?”

“Probably was a bad idea anyway,” he mutters. “I wasn’t really thinking about the long term.”

You idiot, Ryan. He probably only wanted the one ride on my merry-go-round. “I’m reading too much into things, aren’t I? I’m making assumptions about what you want from me. Fuck.” I step back, putting air between us. “I feel like a moron. You probably just wanted a quickie, and here I am acting like I’m your damn missus already.”

“Be nice.”

“What?” I snap my gaze back to where he’s still leaning on my car, adjusting his jeans.

“To have you as my missus,” he says quietly. “I want it all. You, the quickie, the stuff afterward.” He lifts his head, a wicked grin twisting his lips. “I’m just not used to someone bein’ interested in that with me . . . or there bein’ another guy involved.” He chuckles, sardonically. “I don’t have the first clue what I’m supposed to do to make you want to stay.”