Slowly, his hands left my arms, his touch drifting down, to my waist, digging his fingers in just slightly. Heat settled between my legs, and I bit my lip to keep my breathing under control.

“Did you do something I’m going to make you regret?” he whispered.

Make me regret?

“Jealous?” I teased.

But Miles and Astrid were far away now. Barely a concern. Tomorrow, I’d tell my mom what happened, but right now, I had all I wanted in this car.

I touched his neck, trailing my fingers to his collarbone, and hovered over his mouth, playing with the tiny space of breath between us.

“Winter…” He was almost growling.

I moved around his face, caressing him with my nose, forehead, and hands, my tongue dying to reach beyond my lips and taste him.

“You’ve been gone two years,” I said. “That’s a long time.”

“Did they touch you?”

“And if they did?” I taunted. “I’m grown up now.”

“You’re not,” he said, sounding like a warning but breathing harder himself.

I pressed my chest into his, squeezing him between my thighs. “I’m old enough for things.”

He gripped my waist harder, pressing my body into his. “You’re old enough when I say.”

I smiled, tipping my head back and feeling his lips trail a line up my throat. His mouth said one thing and was doing another.

My body started to move, taunting him. Teasing him. Rubbing on him.

I wanted to whisper his name, but I couldn’t.

I took his hands and pulled them away from my body, sliding them up my thighs, just under my skirt. I wasn’t shy around him. I knew he wanted me, but he kept doing things—being bossy and overprotective—that reminded me of an older brother. It needed to stop. I wasn’t a child. I was ready.

“So what do you say?” I asked, inviting him to touch me.

He curled his fingers against my skin.

“Stop it,” he ordered me.

“I’m sixteen, and I’ve never been kissed.” I put my hands on his chest, feeling my breasts grazing his body. “I waited for you.”

“Winter…”

“I waited for you,” I repeated, panting and brushing his lips with mine. “But I won’t wait forever.”

I layered my lips with his and dipped my tongue out, flicking his lip as I rolled my hips on him. The unmistakably hard ridge of his cock rubbed against my panties through his jeans, and I moaned.

He grabbed me under my arms, holding me up to his face. “That better not be a threat,” he bit out.

And then he took my face in one hand and snatched up my lips, biting my bottom one, almost chewing it like he was starving.

He groaned, I whimpered, and we both gave in, holding each other in our arms, our mouths melting together.

I was fast and clumsy, and I couldn’t keep up with his kisses and tongue in my mouth, but I loved every second.

He nibbled and bit and took with force, gripping the back of my hair to tip my head back and eat at my neck. He moved from my throat to my chin to my jaw and then back to my mouth, and I clutched at his shoulders, tugging on his sweatshirt as I dry-humped him. God, I couldn’t stop myself. He felt so good. It was like an itch that I needed to scratch more and harder.

I tugged at my bow tie, unable to breathe.

Pulling it loose, I unbuttoned my top button, finally feeling freer and diving in, hugging him to where he was sucking on my neck.

My hips moved back and forth, grinding into him

“Winter…” he groaned, pulling back. “I don’t want to…”

I picked up pace, and he grabbed my ass, helping me move.

“Don’t want to what?” I gasped out.

“Make you dirty.”

I slowed, touching his mouth with mine and kissing him softly.

Why would he think that?

“You won’t.” I shook my head, touching his face. “We won’t go all the way. We’ll just play.”

He breathed out a laugh.

I kissed him, and he dug his fingers in again, making my body explode and every inch of skin come alive. God, I loved it when he did that.

“Hey, man, what are we doing?” someone shouted outside. “You want us to wait or what?”

I startled, taking a moment to register he had friends with him. I threaded my fingers into his hair, going for his mouth again.

Don’t leave.

“Dude!” the guy barked again. “Girls your own age, right out here! What the fuck?”

A breathy laugh rumbled from his chest. “I don’t think I can wait for her to be legal, man,” he whispered to his friend but only loud enough for me to hear.

I nibbled his mouth, playing. “Sixteen is the legal age of consent in thirty-three states,” I teased. “Just not ours. It’s a technicality.”

“Researched it, have you?”

I started to grin, but the guy outside grew impatient. “Man, come on!”

But the boy in my arms shot out his fist, slamming it into the window to shut his friend up, and I heard the glass crack and splinter under his fist.

“Ah, Jesus,” the guy whined, and I heard more laughter from others. “Let’s give them some room, guys.”

Their voices drifted off, and he slowed down, touching me, devouring my neck, and getting to know my body. His hands drifted up my skirt, teasing the line but never crossing it, and I slid my hands under his sweatshirt and T-shirt, feeling his hot skin, taut body, and narrow waist.

I brushed across raised pieces of skin under his arms, and paused, noticing they reminded me of what I’d felt under his hair two years ago. I rubbed over them with my thumb several times.

“Why were you upset earlier?” he asked. “When you left work?”

That’s right. He saw me leave the theater. I looked upset?

I guess I kind of whipped the door closed rather vehemently.

“Did someone else do something to you?” He pulled back to look at me as he buttoned my top button and retied my bow tie.

Normally, I hated when people handled me like a kid and assumed they should do things for me, but I got the impression it was more for him. About putting me ‘right’ again.

“Just a bad night all around,” I told him.

“What happened?”

“Nothing important.”

He finished and settled his hands on my waist, waiting.

I laughed quietly, giving in. “I think I quit my job tonight,” I told him. “I’ve been working the ticket booth at Bridge Bay Theater. They’d asked me not to dance on the premises anymore, and I…” I paused, searching for a way to explain so I didn’t sound pathetic, “did whatever I could to stay involved there, maybe change their minds. But she won’t budge.”

I drew in a deep breath and exhaled, reiterating my boss’s words. “‘It’s unsafe, and I could hurt myself,’ I told him, getting angry all over again and starting to tear up. “My boss said something like “God has a path, and I need to go where life leads me.”

“What the fuck?”

“Right?” I said, my voice thick with tears. “I just wanted to, like…burn the whole place down.”

He snorted, shaking with laughter, and after a moment, I started laughing, too. He kissed me, reminding me that no matter how the night started, it was ending very well. I wanted to stay with him, but he had friends with him, and I wasn’t sure if he already had plans.

“So…” I said, changing the subject. “You have friends.”

It was kind of weird, confirming that he was a regular guy with an everyday life. And here I thought he was a vampire, rising only when the sun set.

“Can I meet them?” I asked.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re mine, not yours,” he warned, moving his mouth under my ear. “And you’re mine, not theirs.”

“Well that narrows down your identity,” I replied. “An only child, because you never learned to share.”

I’d figure it out eventually. Or find a way to make him tell me. After all, I was keeping him a secret from others, too.

But, it occurred to me, I wasn’t a secret to him. While he was one to me.

Why?

I didn’t feel guilty about hiding him from others, but he was hiding himself from me. There was a reason for that.

Was he old? Attached? Psychotic?

Or maybe…embarrassed by me?

But he suddenly spoke up, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Where does your boss live?” he asked.

My boss?

I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”

Damon

Five Years Ago

We left Anderson’s car where it was and climbed in mine, the guys having already moved on, as I drove her back through town and to her boss’s house.

“What are you going to do?” she asked me.

I pulled up, parking along the curb, across the street from the theater manager’s house, a craftsman-style home with a large wraparound porch and several gables. The yard was green and pristine and only a single light shone from outside the front door.

I wasn’t sure yet. But I always came up with something.

Emory Scott lived in this neighborhood. It was nice and clean but boasted none of the mansions the seaside area of town did. I actually preferred it here. Houses close together, neighbors…it would’ve been a nice place to grow up.

I put the car in Neutral and pulled up the e-brake. “What do you want me to do?”

I looked over at her, her hands clasped in her lap, looking kind of nervous, and I smiled. Her mouth twisted, and I could see the apprehension all over her face. So scared of getting into trouble.

But I was sorry. No one told her what she could and could not do.

Except maybe me.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, looking uncertain. “Let’s just leave.”

“You want to dance?” I prodded. “I’ll get you anything you want.”