Something in the Way (Something in the Way #1)(74)

She was breathing hard again, but not out of fear. Her tears had dried. She dug her foot between the seats, where I’d shoved the cigarettes, and nudged the pack out. “You look like you need one.”

I wondered if my face was as gray as hers had been a minute ago. She seemed warm now, loving, but now my hands shook, even the one holding her ankle. She sat forward without moving her legs and turned up the stereo.

I recognized the beginning chords of a song before the DJ even introduced it. “. . . slow things down with a little Sophie B. Hawkins,” he was saying. “This request goes out from Naomi C. to John M., and I don’t think I have to tell you what Naomi’s trying to say. It’s right there in the title.”

Lake scooted closer, bending her leg between us. She picked up the pack and took out a cigarette, studying it. When she went to put it in her mouth, I caught her wrist.

“I just want to see what it’s like.”

I let go of her. It wasn’t as if she had anything to light it with.

She put it between her lips, rolling them around the butt, then took it out and pretended to blow smoke. “Did I do it right?”

She held it in the “V” of her index and middle fingers like her sister—of course. She probably didn’t know anyone who smoked besides us. She held it up to my mouth, and I was suddenly aware of my breath against her fingers. I took the butt between my lips. It tasted sweet. Sometime between the lake and the car, she’d made herself taste like watermelon candy.

I wanted it. The smoke, the girl. My vices. But here she was, trying to be something she thought I wanted. Something I was trying to protect her from. I took the cigarette, snapped it, tossed it out the window. “I told you. I’m quitting.”

Before I even had the words out, she leaned in, stopping inches from my face. Her sugary breath became mine. It was so easy to forget everything else with her around. Being close to her didn’t feel wrong. I could just sink into it, didn’t have to be cautious like I did with other people, as if I knew on some level she’d protect me. She’d care for me. As a side effect of trying to restrain myself, I squeezed her ankle hard enough to make her gasp. She went for the corner of my mouth, pressing her lips to my skin soft and slow.

“I feel very protective of you, Lake,” I murmured.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to change you.”

“You already have. I want this. I can decide for myself.”

“It’s not that simple.”

She smoothed her cheek against mine. To me, it was like nuzzling a peach but because I hadn’t shaven, it must’ve been rough for her.

“I’ve never even kissed someone,” she said close to my ear. “Never wanted to before.”

It was more than I could handle. It made me happy she’d never been kissed, never wanted it with anyone else. She was maybe too young for that but I also wanted to be her first. I put my other hand on her shoulder, meaning to pull her off. She ducked her head, planting supplicant little pecks behind my ear that might as well have been her saying please, Manning, please, please. My head dropped back against the headrest. “Damn it, Lake.”

With one leg still folded between us, she hooked the other over my knee and moved my hand to her thigh. She hummed along to the song, “Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover.”

My heart pounded. I had to stop this, but she was heavenly. So soft, her lips and downy thigh, so inviting, her leg warming mine. Even her damp hair felt good in my palm. That’s when I realized my fingers had tangled themselves in her hair, spanning the back of her scalp, holding her in place. While I was distracted trying to control my body parts, her kisses traveled up around my mouth. Her hand guided mine up her leg. All at once, I went from pleasantly warm to burning up. My neck, my face. My lap. The base of my cock constricted. She was bold but tentative, bringing us to the edge, but not brave enough to take the leap. Her balmy kisses made blood rush to my crotch, flooded out my guilt.

She took her hand off mine, but I didn’t pull away. I slid it up into the hole of her jean shorts. She reciprocated with a hand on my zipper, right over my dick. Her panties were wet from the lake. From the water. That fucking dangerous, black water. I was no better than it, drowning her, taking what wasn’t mine, turning beautiful things ugly.

“Lake.”

“Please.” Her breath fell on my lips. “One kiss. Then we can stop.”

I wouldn’t be able to stop. No fucking way. My hand got caught in her hair, and I yanked it by accident. She jerked back just long enough for me to take her shoulders and hold her at a distance. “We can’t.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Nobody has to know,” she begged.

Headlights flashed in my side mirror. I immediately spotted the reflective red and blue top of a cop car, even though the lights weren’t flashing.

“Fuck,” I said, switching the song like it was porn I didn’t want to get caught with.

Lake looked out the back window. “The police?”

“Yeah.” He had no reason to pull over, but he might. We looked damn suspicious, sitting on the side of the road in the dark.

“Can we get in trouble?” she asked.

“I can.”

She vaulted herself over the back of the bench, her long limbs nearly knocking me in the face. There was no backseat, just a narrow space behind the front one where I’d found the towels.