Page 45 of Never Mine to Hold


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Because you can damn well bet I licked the finger clean that had been buried deep inside her virgin pussy. My tongue darts out to swipe at my lower lip as if I can still taste her there.

I need to set up our second meeting immediately. As much as I want to draw this out and make it last, that’s not possible.

I want her too damn much.

And it’s doubtful that will change anytime soon.

Her expression remains shuttered behind a mask of indifference which might not seem like progress, but at least she’s no longer scowling at me like I’m the devil himself come to drag her to hell.

It’s all about baby steps, right?

She pops open the door and slips onto the seat before fastening the belt. “Hey.”

“Hi.” I shift the Mustang into first and then second before shooting out of the crowded lot. “You ready to do this?”

She draws in an unsteady breath before releasing it back into the atmosphere. “I think so.”

My mind tumbles back to when we were thick as thieves. When I didn’t think anything could separate us. “Didn’t you take driver’s education in high school?”

“Yeah.”

As soon as the response leaves her lips, I’m slammed with the reason. It hangs heavy in the air like an impending storm, ready to wreak havoc.

Emotion swells in my throat as I clear it and try to find the right words to frame the question. “You never went back to, um, finish?”

She fidgets in the leather seat next to me. “I completed the classroom portion. It was the behind the wheel instruction that I had a hard time getting through. I just…”

Her voice trails off as she stares straight ahead.

That’s all it takes for icy fingers to wrap around my heart and squeeze so tight that sucking in a full breath becomes agonizing.

Before the accident, both Miles and I would let her drive our cars on deserted roads. She never had an issue with it. I’m sure the snowy night and what followed has everything to do with the reason she doesn’t have her license.

With nothing left to say, the remainder of the drive to an out-of-the-way church is made in suffocating silence. Once I reach the center of the deserted parking lot, I shift into neutral, allowing the vehicle to idle. I give her a quick refresher on the gears and instruct her on how to shift into first before slowly releasing the clutch while simultaneously stepping on the accelerator.

“Pretty simple, right?” When I glance over to gauge her reaction, I find Fallyn with her lower lip stuck between her teeth.

Her brows are pinched together in concentration as she regurgitates the information back to me.

“Yup, you got it. Ready to slide into the driver’s seat and take a little spin?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nerves vibrate in her voice.

I hate that she’s riddled with so much anxiety.

And that I’m the cause of it.

“It’ll be fine,” I soothe. “For tonight, we’ll stay in the lot.”

“What happens if I break your car?”

One side of my lips hitch. “That’s not going to happen. I promise. It’s just like riding a bike.”

She gives me a bit of side eye. “Are you forgetting about how many parked cars I crashed into while learning how to ride a two-wheeler?”

An unexpected chuckle slips free. Now that she’s mentioned it, I do. The summer before first grade, she was a mess of scrapes and bruises from falling off her bike. Miles took off her training wheels and insisted that she learn even though she cried and said she wasn’t ready. He wanted her to be able to keep up with us when we were riding around the neighborhood.

By the end of August, she was a pro.

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