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She looks uncertain for a moment, but then she nods and smiles.
“How can I refuse my knight in shining armor?” she says.
We start to walk side by side. I am shaken to my core by this woman. How can she be so fucking addictive? How can she have this effect on me so quickly?
“Do you have a name, Mystery Man?” she asks shyly.
“Mystery Man, huh?” I laugh. “Macauley Kramer. But my friends call me Mac.”
“Zoe Ford,” she replies with a mischievous glint in her eye. “But my friends call me Zoe.”
“Original.” I grin.
If I get my way, her friends will be calling her Mrs. Kramer soon enough.
CHAPTER FOUR
ZOE
I don’t know what it is about Mac that makes me feel so comfortable. I mean I’ve just seen firsthand how dangerous he can be, but I don’t fear him. I feel completely safe with him. That and completely flustered and wet and ready for him to take me.
As we walk, I feel his eyes on me as he keeps throwing me sideways glances. I want more than his eyes on me. I want his hands on me. His tongue. I want to feel him inside of me. I’ve never believed in sex before marriage; I could never understand why people had no self-control and couldn’t wait. But I hadn’t met Mac Kramer then. And now I have, I get it. All of my moral beliefs seem to have left me, and I know if he kissed me now, I would melt in his arms and let him do anything he wanted to me.
“So it’s Friday night and you were in a little dive bar like that one rather than a club,” Mac says, piercing my thoughts. “What’s with that?”
“Clubbing isn’t really my scene,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow, and I laugh.
“Fine. You want the truth? I’m not old enough to go clubbing, and the clubs are a lot more careful with their ID checks than those seedy little bars. But we’ve just finished finals and we wanted to celebrate, so it was there or nowhere. Vicky, my best friend, got wasted and went home early. I figured I’d be okay with Lester—the douchebag you punched—because he’s my friend’s brother. Well, she’s probably an ex-friend now.”
“So you’re some sort of genius then?” Mac says.
I frown.
“Well, you’re not old enough to drink, but you’ve just finished finals. Aren’t people usually around twenty-two when they finish college?”
“Sure,” I say. “But I’m not at college.”
I’m about to drop the bombshell. The one that will make Mac run for the hills.
“I’m about to graduate high school.”
His eyes open wide and he stares at me.
“How old are you?”
I laugh. “I’m eighteen,” I say quickly.
I see the relief flicker over his face. Obviously, I’m younger than he thought, but at least I’m not an actual kid.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three,” he says.
“Oh, you’re ancient,” I joke.
“Yup. I’m almost due to get my pension,” he says, playing along.
His joking makes me brave, and I laugh and bump him with my hip. I wait for the sparks I felt when he held my wrist. The touch doesn’t disappoint me. I instantly feel a wave of desire flood me as my hip bumps the top of his leg. My pussy clenches as the delicious feeling floods my body. God, why won’t he just kiss me already? I know he feels it too. I could see it in his eyes when he held my wrist.
I never want to stop touching him. The feeling it brings on makes me feel confident, like a new woman. I tentatively reach out and slip my hand under his arm, linking him to me. He sucks in a breath as my hand curls over his skin. That breath makes my pussy wet. If I can make him sound like that touching his arm, imagine what I could do touching his cock.
Probably not much. It’s not like I’d know what to do with it. I’m sure he could show me though. He turns his head and looks at me. His eyes are darker than usual, clouded with lust, and I feel another rush of wetness coat my pussy. If I’m not careful, I’m going to be leaving a trail as I walk.
He clears his throat and looks away from me. I smile to myself. We keep walking, a comfortable silence falling. Mac seems to get himself back under control and he looks at me again.
“So Zoe, whatever will your parents think when you turn up with me arm in arm?”
“I don’t live with my parents,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow. I know I have to elaborate. I don’t usually talk about my life growing up, but I don’t want him to think I’m some delinquent runaway. I surprise myself by realizing I want to be honest with him, even about the bad parts. I want him to know everything about me.
