7

Dylan's towering stance reaches us and fills my space with his leathery scent. It activates my senses, and suddenly I'm fully aware of the beast of the man before me. He's over six feet, covered in tattoos, and I don't doubt that if he took off his shirt, they'd invade his entire torso. He's angry, but I don't know why. Do I even want to know?

"Stalking is illegal," I blurt out. And Jasmin almost breaks my fingers in her grip.

He angles his head toward the noisy structure behind us. A dark, alternative rock song with explicit lyrics is playing, and the music swirls around us as someone opens the door to exit. My fucking cheeks fume a bright Elmo red, but I act like nothing fazes me. Hopefully, my act will steel my spine. Either that or the ground will miraculously open up and swallow me whole.

"Underage club employment is illegal. Your friend's kinda young, Jasmin. Why'd you bring her to Ribbons?"

Jasmin stifles a laugh, and I roll my eyes. Surprisingly, her grip loosens.

I'm so fucking annoyed that people assume I'm eight years younger than I really am. It may be great when you're old, old, but when you're already young and people think you're younger… it's not a good thing. Young blood is discriminated against quite enough for there to be more hostility. And the night has been so shitty my nerves are all over the place, and my anger doesn"t care what aroused it; it's just looking for someone to blame.

"You know, I normally let people assume whatever the fuck they want, but I've had quite enough of it. I'm twenty-two years old, rookie. A consenting, legal adult. Now you can go and fix the fuck-up that your buddies placed in that file of yours."

Jasmin's breath hitches and she's back to squeezing my fingers flat and purple.

The rookie's eyes blanch, the black in them expanding somehow. They pulse and threaten to pop out of his perfect face. His features smooth just as suddenly. "You're far from home. I'll give you two a ride."

He isn't asking, and I ponder this while I'm sure my face turns eleven shades of red. His fists are in his pockets, and I have to look away because I know how much I love to watch his muscles flex when he stretches his arms into his pants.

Noah, Noah, Noah.I chant his name like a fucking mantra to remind me that I'm taken.

"Actually, that would be great. Our ride left us."

I snap my head and gawk at Jasmin. The fucking traitor! I want to speak up and tell them both I'd rather walk, but as if reminding me that I most definitely cannot walk thirty something miles back home, my knees buckle with a throbbing pain at the ball of my feet, my poor ankles threaten to give out and put me on my ass.

I give a reluctant nod and Dylan's eyes glimmer in the darkness. His eyes pull enough light from the buzzing lightbulb above the door, illuminating the silver specks that dance in their midnight bliss at something unknown. It's like he's delighted to drive us home, and instantly I'm suspicious. But not enough to say no.

Dylan's car is as sexy as he is. It's all black, leather, and steel and fucking seductive. The engine purrs as he accelerates and grips the steering wheel with one hand while the other adjusts some dials to perfect the air and radio station. I barely hear the music playing softly in the background, my heart is beating in my head.

"You could have sat up front, you know. No one is being arrested tonight."

Jasmin nudges me and I want to fucking smack her thigh away. She wiggles her eyebrows at me and smirks. He's talking to you, she mouths. Yes, I know he's fucking talking to me, but I don't know why. I have a boyfriend. I look up and find him staring at me through the rearview mirror.

"We're fine back here," I mumble.

"So, you two work at Ribbons?"

Jasmin gives me an angry glare. She wants me to talk to the rookie, and I shake my head at her. She relents to pinching my arm and I hold the spot dramatically.

"Um, I do. Justice picked up the hours for the extra cash."

The rookie nods and lets out a breath. The small interior allows me to breathe in that same puff of air, and I hold on to it, expanding my chest to feel the mintiness of him inside my lungs, mingling with my own. Jasmin watches me and I exhale in shame, caught up, and I want to sink into the leather seat. Dylan shifts suddenly and his shoulders tense up. I watch his hand grip the steering wheel as if he's falling, and it's the only thing keeping him in this car.

"Where do you normally work?"

He's still talking to me, and Jasmin stabs one finger into my thigh. "She does odd jobs here and there, whatever the agency throws her way. Mostly physical work."

I glare at her and my lips move slowly to mouth, what the actual fuck?

He's a cop, damn it. Shut up!

"Physical work?" His words come out slow and husky, and I have the sudden urge to tell him to keep his mind out of the gutter. "And what does Julius do?"

"Are you interrogating me, Detective? Because you haven't read me my rights."

He lets out a chuckle, and the sound literally pulls me toward him. One hand grips the seat directly in front of me, while the other touches the armrest between the two front seats. I want to lean my face into the leather so that I can get a better look at him. His profile view is all sharp-edged, and I can see his neck tattoo dip down past his shoulder. My arm trembles with the need to graze my finger and follow the intricate black ink.

"Relax, Niki. I'm not interrogating you. Just curious."

I bristle at the nickname. "Well, curiosity killed the cat."

"Are you threatening me?" He catches my glare in the mirror, and his eyes swallow up the shadows in the car.

I shrug, feigning a cockiness I don't possess. Not with him, and not about this, but I can't back down. "Maybe."

Jasmin almost clamps her hand over my mouth. "She most definitely is not. I'm sorry, Detective. Justice's mouth gets her in trouble, but she's harmless."

Dylan's knuckles go white from his strong grip on the wheel. I'm afraid it'll crumble to ash from the pressure. "Is your friend right? That mouth of yours get you in trouble?"

I roll my eyes and stare out the window while pushing back into my seat. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? I cross my arms and glare at Jasmin.

Her eyes are wide as she mouths Ohmygod, and she's fanning herself, trying to shrink behind Dylan's seat. I want to strangle her; this is her fault.

"My brother is a minor, and I don't need to tell you what he does unless this relates to an official line of questioning. So, I'll ask again, are you interrogating me, Detective?"

"I already told you I wasn't."

I throw up my hands in frustration. "So why the twenty questions? Can't you just drive in silence?"

Jasmin buries her face into her hands. I shrug, what?

She clears her throat. "We aren't used to law enforcement being nice for no reason, Detective. It's… unnerving."

He nods, as if accepting Jasmin's excuse for my shitty attitude. She isn't wrong, but mostly I'm just terrified of how Dylan makes me feel. I should be weak at the knees for Noah. I should be craving Noah. I should be eager for him to return and envelop me in his arms and cherish me the way he does.

Yet all I want to do is run my tongue all over Dylan's skin and taste him. I want his scent permanently seared into my receptors. I want to trace my mouth over the inked lines etched all over his body. I want his full lips between my legs, lapping up the desire he owns in me.

I need to get the fuck out of this damn car.

It takes us forty-five agonizing minutes to get to our county, and it dawns on me that we're in a cop's car. We're a five-minute drive away from where our trailer is, and if anyone spots Jasmin and I getting out of a detective's vehicle, we're fucked. It isn't a police car by any means. In fact, I don't know any officer who owns a car like this one, but still.

"You can drop us off here. We can walk the rest of the way."

"Why would I do that?"

Fucking hell, this man is impossible. "Because you're a cop," I spit through a tight jaw and even tighter lips.

I think I hear Dylan growl, but he pulls over and steps out. His seat folds forward, and Jasmin graciously steps out. I shuffle eagerly and plant one black pump on the ground when my other foot gets caught on the seatbelt. I'm going to fall flat on my fucking face, but Dylan reaches out and firmly grips my waist, and my hands press against his rock-hard chest.

Our eyes lock, and we both hold our breaths, as though we are united by the same life thread—if one seizes to breathe, then so does the other. An innate link that relies on the other for survival. The suppression lasts seconds and then we're breathing again, and we both blink as we inhale one another. His pupils dilate, reminding me that his irises are barely a shade lighter. It's beyond a mere attraction; something about this moment magnetizes itself to my core memories, superseding above all other encounters, practically obliterating any other hold on me.

I don't know if it's because we're afraid to breathe the air between us, or if the jolt of electricity shocked us into immobility, but our next breaths are slow and uneven. I feel his heart beating and the heat of him permeates through his t-shirt and brands my skin. I want to mold into him and press myself against his body and allow the current of my desire to push me past the inevitable fall that tugs at me like a force of fucking nature. His hands move to hold me steady by my elbows, and he stretches behind me to free my trapped ankle. My heel clicks on the cement.

One hand stays cupping my elbow, while his other moves to my face. The familiarity of his hold renders me to this moment, halting me from reacting the way I normally would to anyone else's touch, even Noah's. His thumb grazes my bottom lip, and he tugs it down and dips the tip to touch my teeth. He tastes of salted mint, and I fight the urge to bite the tip of his finger.

As though he heard my thoughts, he inhales a sharp breath and leans into my ear, his lips dangerously close to my pierced lobe, and I imagine his breath collecting on the gold-plated metal. I can feel his stubble scrape by cheek and liquid heat pools at my center.

"I don't believe you're harmless, and I can think of the perfect punishment for this mouth." He squeezes my lip, then lets go.

Fuck, I should've bitten him. I stumble back a step, a cold breeze sweeps up and around me, my skin already feeling the void of his heat.

"Careful, a heel like that can kill a man."

I glare at him. "Here's hoping."

Jasmin rolls her eyes. I'm stumbling toward her when she loops her hand through mine and calls. "Thanks for the ride, Detective."