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Yeah, yeah, a chaste peck on my cheeks.
It counted. It was the most contact, the most affection I’d had in so very long.
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Arsen said, his voice drowsy like he was thinking about taking a nap.
A nap in the back of a cop car.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?” I prompted.
His chin dropped as he lifted his head. “Ask what?”
“If the drugs are mine,” I supplied.
“No.”
I was a quiet guy. I preferred emojis over long texts. Music over talking. Silence over all else. But that one-word final answer was pissing me off.
“Why the hell not?” Did he think I was guilty? Asshole.
That fucking smirk was back on his lips. So smirky it even reached his eyes. Overconfident. Smug. Sexy as hell.
This was exactly why I told myself this was a bad idea. He was a bad idea. He’d eat me alive for breakfast. Hell, I’d probably thank him as he did it.
I was not going to be so weak. I wasn’t weak. I was just already using my strength for other things.
“You really want me to ask?” he said, the cajoling, soft tone catching me off guard. He wasn’t indulgent. He was arrogant.
“No.” I denied and turned my face in the opposite direction.
His muffled laugh had my fingernails digging into my palms. Tap, tap, tap. One, two, three.
“What’s your first name?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not calling you by your last.”
“Everyone else does.”
“I’m not everyone else.”
I remained turned away, my arms starting to cramp from the stupid cuffs.
“Those your drugs, princess?”
“That’s not my name either,” I said, stomach fluttering because he asked.
“It’s the one I gave you.”
My stomach fluttered again. “No,” I replied after a moment. “I don’t do drugs.”
“I know.”
I whipped around to look at him. His eyes were already on me. “How do you know?” I demanded.
He shrugged. “I just do.”
I scoffed so hard my body tipped backward, arms and hands brushing against the sticky pleather. Skin crawling, I scooted forward, bending again at the waist.
