Hothouse Flower (Addicted #4)(77)

She spins around, my hands falling off her shoulders. And in effect, she half-straddles my lap. Her ass is on the edge of the seat, not on me.

“Can I have your knife?” she asks.

I stare down at her and cup her face, brushing my thumb along her smooth cheek. “What knife?”

She reaches towards my ankle, and I grab her wrist to stop her. A smile plays at her lips, mischievousness dancing in her eyes. “The knife you used to wear to bed,” she whispers in a silky voice.

I’m wearing that knife now, but I stopped strapping it to my ankle at night because I thought it would lessen her anxiety—for her to see that I wasn’t worried about someone breaking into her apartment anymore. “Don’t talk about my knife, Calloway,” I deadpan.

She eases forward, straddling my lap. “I like your knife.”

She’s a wicked f*cking girl. There’s a reason why guys haven’t been able to last with her. In bed, she probably won’t lie still while a guy dominates her. She doesn’t beg to be in full control either. She wants to be a part of the experience, so when I f*ck her, she’s going to f*ck me with equal intensity. It’s a back and forth between us that I didn’t expect to translate to sex, but I already know it will.

My gaze hardens, giving her a look that intimidates most women. Instead her eyes brighten, hypnotized by the darkness inside of me. The I don’t give a f*ck what you think mentality scares some people, but it attracts her. It always has.

She breathes deeply and runs her hand through my hair before her lips touch my ear, “You’re my wolf.” Her hands fall to the back of my neck, watching me watch her.

“Cute,” I say.

“The cutest?” She smiles.

I shake my head, lean forward, and whisper in her ear, “The cutest is you, wrapped in my arms, coming three or four times before you fall asleep.”

Her fingers grip my neck tighter. “I can barely come once,” she whispers.

My eyebrows shoot up. “You came pretty f*cking quickly with me,” I breathe. She stares at my lips while I reach down in my boot and pull out my serrated knife.

I hand it to her, and she touches the point of the blade to her finger, not drawing blood but just inspecting the sharpness.

“It can cut through hair,” I assure her.

She still scrutinizes the blade with a faraway look. Then she says under her breath, “I’ve never had sex with a guy like that.”

I frown. “With someone holding you?”

She nods. “Usually they have their head on a pillow, watching me while I’m on top.”

That really f*cking bugs me, and the irritation passes through my features.

“I shouldn’t have brought up other guys I was with. I know it’s like a relationship faux pas.” She slides off my lap and steals back her hairband from my wrist.

“I’m not upset because you were talking about your past hook ups,” I tell her. I glance at the front of the car. My brother is fast asleep while Connor switches lanes, acting disinterested in everything. I don’t think he can hear us, and if he can, he’ll probably keep everything to himself. I look back at Daisy who ties her hair in a low pony.

“You looked pissed,” she says.

“I f*cking am,” I whisper. “You deserve better.”

“What’s better?” she asks.

“Someone who pays attention to you,” I tell her. “Someone who can tell what you like and dislike without asking.” And then I lean forward and whisper in her ear, “Someone who makes you so wet that you scream when you come.”

Her face flushes a little and she ties her hair off and whispers back, “Where were you three years ago?”

She was fifteen. I was twenty-two.

“Three years ago,” I whisper, “I met you at a New Year’s Eve party where you got roofied and I carried you to my car.”

She shakes her head. “You met me before then at my house. You waved at me.”

I remember that. “I didn’t know you were Lily’s sister. Honestly, I thought you were twenty-two and one of Rose’s friends.”

When Lily pointed at the tall blonde eating a pomegranate in the kitchen, I thought she was f*cking gorgeous. So I waved. Her face lit up and she gave me a quick once-over, her lips curving in a cute smile.

I immediately wanted to f*ck her, to start something, wondering if she was the kind of girl who did long term, short term, or one-night stands. I planned to do any of the three, just based on the way she was smiling, her carefree nature where she radiated with energy, and her beautiful f*cking features.

I was going to walk over and see if I could ask her on a date, but then Lily said something that burst my f*cking plans.

She said, “Oh, that’s my youngest sister.”

My face hardened. “She looks older than you.”

“I know, but she’s only fifteen.”

Fifteen. A weird feeling washed over me, like I did something really f*cking wrong even though I hadn’t done it yet. I closed off to Daisy instantly, burning every thought and image I had constructed on a f*cking impulse.

“You really thought I was Rose’s friend?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say. A big f*cking mistake.

She lets this sink in with a faraway gaze.

My phone buzzes on the seat. I sigh with more frustration as I check the message.