“God, you’re sexy when you come,” he murmurs, eyeing me in satisfaction. “I could watch you do this over and over and over. Ghost over there’s enjoying it, too.”
I let out a shaky breath, my eyes still closed. The sound of Zeke’s rich, velvety voice in my ear is the perfect comedown from that magnificent, soaring high he took me to. It’s a good thing his hip is still pinning me to the wall, because there’s zero hope of my legs supporting me right now.
As my eyes flutter open, willing myself back into reality, a flash of movement catches my eye. It’s only a glance, a jerk of the head from someone on the street. But it jolts me out of my reverie, sending the darkness of the rooftops and the rush of cars on Main Street all crashing back at once.
I stiffen, whip my head around toward the movement. “Someone saw.”
Zeke’s unperturbed. The corner of his mouth pulls up into a halfway smirk, and he leans forward to nip at my earlobe. “Good.”
He slides his fingers out of me, leaving my jeans unzipped for a moment as he sucks his fingers clean. It’s hot, watching him do that. Knowing this sexy, sought-after man finds me attractive enough to finger-fuck in the middle of the street with nothing in it for him except the act of getting to watch me come.
Jesus. Patrick would never.
It’s at that moment my stomach decides to growl like a crazed, caged bear. Zeke bursts out laughing, but I’m mortified. We’d been standing here in sexy silence, and then all of a sudden my body has to come out withthat?
But he just keeps laughing lightly, oblivious to my burning cheeks as he buttons my jeans and nudges me away from the wall.
“Jesus, hot stuff,” he says, his grin ridiculously adorable. “I’d have fucking fed you first if I knew you were hungry. You’re supposed to tell me this shit! Come on. We’re getting pizza.”
With a playful slap of my ass, he slides an arm around my waist and squeezes, guiding me back toward the alley. And even though I’m not quite sure how we got here, or why Zeke’s not hanging out with some fun chick his own age who’ll smoke a goddamn joint with him, I don’t resist.
Like I said: Ican’tresist. Zeke Holloway is irresistible. And I’m not even mad.
twenty-four
AUTUMN
Trey: We’re keeping our hands to ourselves, right?
Autumn: I mean… I am, yeah. I can’t vouch for other people.
Trey: GIRL.
Autumn: What?! I’m letting him relieve my stress.
Trey: I reeeally don’t want to end up having to say I told you so…
It’s been three days since what happened in the alley. After stopping by Angelo’s Slice House and stuffing ourselves full of pepperoni pizza over a dingy booth table, I drove home to touch base with the tech crew I hired for the fashion show,leaving Zeke at his car to go who knows where. Do who knows what. Who knowswho.
God, that’s exactly where my mind’s been, too. As hard as I tried not to notice that night, I was relieved to see Zeke’s headlights come bouncing down the driveway only half an hour after I got home. And every night since then, I’ve been acutely aware of whether his car’s in the driveway at any given moment. Of how late it is when he gets back at night. I finally had to lower the damn blinds in the kitchen so I wouldn’t be able to see out.
Because every time he’s not at home, I start thinking. And, just like Zeke warned me, that thinking is proving to be… miserable. I keep picturing him with Jenny, running his hands down her luscious, curvy body, cupping her breasts while he kisses her. And although I know I shouldn’t care—and believe me, I keep willing myself not to—it’s a lost cause. I can’t help it.
I cringe at how corny I am to eventhinkthis, but… Zeke is like a spark in a lightbulb. He lights me up, makes me feel alive. Alive, like I haven’t felt in absolutely ages.
So now that it’s Thursday afternoon and the customers I’ve had today at the shop—yes, once again, thanks to Zeke—are all gone, I’m trying hard to distract myself, bury myself in preparations for the show. Almost everything is finished, down to the gift bags and lighting cues. There’s only the stereo setup and fresh-cut flowers left to arrange, and Trey will come to help with that tomorrow. Things are really starting to take shape.
I’m getting ready to lock up for the night when the front door swings open, and there, striding across the length of the store toward my desk, is Patrick.
“Autumn. What the fuck?”
I glance up at him, working hard to keep my expression smooth. I have no clue what he’s upset about, but if he thinks he’s going to walk in here and intimidate me, he better think again.
“Patrick, hi,” I say, making a big show of clicking through tabs and shutting my laptop before looking up at him. I smile. “And wow, what a greeting—what the fuck to you, too. They teach you that at prep school?”
“Not in the mood, Autumn,” Patrick snaps. “Who’s the kid? This kid you’re shacking up with?”
My heart speeds up. I probably should’ve told Patrick I was letting Lydia’s soon-to-be brother-in-law stay in the cabin a while, but like—it’smycabin. I own the place now. I don’t answer to him anymore, or his shitty parents.
