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When an hour has passed and the seemingly stoned barista tells us it’s closing time—at six o’clock—Cash walks me to my car.
“I had fun today,” he says.
I shield my eyes from the sun. “Me too,” I admit.
“Friends?” he asks, extending a hand. “Or is that against the rules, too?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have a rule for that. I usually don’t see my lays more than once,” I admit, smiling.
“Sage Everling, you’ve got a heart of steel. Has anyone ever broken through it?” he asks me.
I stare at him defiantly. “Never,” I confess.
“Well, I’m not one to give up, you know?”
I open my mouth in protest, but before I can say anything, he’s pinning me up against the door of my car, his mouth pressed against mine. I want to stop him, my head telling me this isn’t a good idea. But as his hand moves through my hair in just the perfect way, as he takes ownership of me with his lips, I ease into it.
He’s a little bit aggressive and a whole lot of confident.
He’s the alpha to my alpha, and it’s just the way I like it.
It’s a power struggle with this one, both of us trying to take the reins.
Somehow, though, the tug-of-war works. I like it, I admit to myself.
I like him.
Just when I find my hands wandering to his hips, thinking about how good it would feel to let him take me in the backseat, he pulls away.
“See you later,” he says, calmly strolling away, leaving me breathless against my car, wondering what the hell just happened. He shoots me a smile and a wink before climbing into his car and driving away.
I open the car door and slump into the seat, resting my head on the steering wheel.
Damn, that man’s good.
For a moment, I almost thought maybe I was going to break my rules. I shake my head, wondering what game Cash Creed is up to and how I’m going to beat him at it.
