Rock Addiction (Rock Kiss #1)(23)

“Come on,” he said when their mouths parted, that sexy dimple creasing his cheek and his hand cradling her nape in a way that felt breath-stealingly protective. “Let’s hit this market before I take you up against the wall there.” His forehead touched hers. “I’m not sure your neighbors would approve.”

Cheeks blazing, Molly shot a nervous glance around the parking lot. It proved empty of all other life. Phew. “Aren’t you worried about photographers?”

“I f*cking love this country.” He placed one hand on her lower back, nudging her toward the car. “Even your paparazzi are polite and don’t bother people until after ten.”

“Ha-ha,” she said, trying not to think too hard about how incredibly good it felt to be with him. “And wow, look, you picked such an inconspicuous car.”

“Smart-ass.” He lightly spanked that ass, to her renewed blush. “The rental company only delivered it yesterday, and as far as anyone knows, it was hired by a corporation.”

“Where’s your disguise?”

“Wait and see.” Leaning down to open the door, he said, “Into my chariot.”

Molly bit her lower lip and wondered if she should warn him about the parking situation at the market. Then the devil in her, long stifled, grinned and said why not give him the full local experience? “Is this a Lamborghini, too?” she asked, sliding into the buttery-soft leather bucket seat with a sigh of pleasure.

“Baby,” he said, after getting into the driver’s seat, “we need to have a serious discussion about your lack of knowledge of the most beautiful machines on this planet.” Closing a hand on her thigh, high enough up that her breath caught, he slipped on mirrored sunglasses with the other. “This is a Ferrari Spider.”

She widened her eyes, unable to tone down her awareness of that hand on her thigh… or of how possessive it felt. “Gosh, what a rookie mistake.” Faux embarrassment. “I mean, what ordinary person can’t tell a Ferrari and a Lamborghini apart on sight?”

“A certain librarian clearly wants to be in trouble today.” Shifting his hand from her thigh to grip the back of her neck, he held her in position for a patented Fox kiss. Deep, wet, lusciously sexual.

He didn’t stop until she was squirming restlessly in her seat. A final lick across her lips, a warning squeeze of her nape. “You’ll get the rest of your punishment later.”

“You—” Shaking her head, she pointed to the street—and if his grin kicked her in the heart, she’d already made her decision, already decided not to be a coward, to embrace this month no matter the consequences.

“Busy place,” Fox said fifteen minutes later, the area around the outdoor market a hive of activity, cars and pedestrians intermingling as the early birds made their way to the entrance.

The Ferrari received more than a few hoots and hollers, especially when the tiny paved parking lot proved full even so early, and Fox was waved into the overflow lot—a grassy field that also occasionally functioned as a racetrack.

“Molly, you have some explaining to do,” Fox muttered when the car’s undercarriage almost scraped a raised section of earth during their turn into the “parking space” pointed out by the orange-vested teenage boy acting as an attendant.

“Were you expecting valet service?” she asked innocently, enjoying playing with him in a way she could’ve never predicted that first night. “I heard they have that at the malls in L.A.”

“Oh, your punishment is going to last a long time.” He turned off the engine. “I think I’ll need to hear some begging before I show any mercy.”

His growled warning, voice holding that edgy roughness that had turned him into a megastar, had her clenching her thighs together as he reached into the miniscule backseat to grab a baseball cap and what looked like a sticker. Confused, she watched him peel off the backing and apply it to his cheek. Suddenly, he had an impossibly realistic-appearing tattoo of a knife-edged starburst on his face.

“Wow,” she murmured, running her fingers over the “tattoo.” “That’s incredible.”

“I have a friend who’s a makeup artist.” He tugged on the cap, the brim shadowing his sunglasses. “She fixes me up with these—people focus on it and don’t bother with the rest.” He pulled on a gray hoodie that covered his arm tats, and suddenly, he wasn’t Fox the rock star but Fox the gorgeous, intelligent, fun guy who was going to the market with her early on a Sunday morning.

Feeling her heart twist in a way that heralded trouble, she didn’t resist when he put an arm around her waist once they’d stepped out of the Ferrari—even though it wasn’t safe, wasn’t sensible.

She already knew that in a month, when he left, it would hurt.

“That is a smokin’ car,” the attendant said, having wandered over to admire it.

Fox halted. “You have a license?”

“Yeah.”

“Keep an eye on it and I’ll let you drive it around the block.”

“Man, thank you.” Shocked awe on the teenager’s face. “Man, shit. I’ll make sure no one touches it.”

Sliding his hand into the back pocket of her jeans as they left the lot, Fox allowed her to set the pace of their exploration. She’d worried the lip ring would make him noticeable, but no one seemed to pay him much mind even when he ditched the sunglasses, asking her to keep them in her purse. Of course, he attracted plenty of admiring female glances, with more than one envious one leveled at Molly, but none of that had to do with his rock star status. No, it was Fox’s raw sexual appeal.