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“Did you forget about a thing called cell phones?” I asked. My heart was still thumping and bumping even though the adrenaline rush had faded. “How long have you been waiting for me?”
“I wasn’t sure what time you finished work, so since about nine,” he said.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said. “This isn’t a safe neighbourhood. You could have been robbed while you were sitting in your car.”
He scowled. “You’re moving out of this neighbourhood, Riley. Immediately.”
I ignored him as I shut the car door and locked it. “It’s late and I’m tired. I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“No,” he said. “We should talk now.”
“Yeah, well, what if I don’t want to?” I said.
“Do as I say, Riley.” I’d missed that familiar look of exasperation.
I straightened my back and gave him an impudent look. “I’m not your good girl anymore, Mr. Cross. I don’t have to do what you tell me.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched as he stared at me, and with giddy recklessness, I said, “You want to spank me right now, don’t you? Or maybe you just want to… how did you put it before…fuck the brat out of me.”
“Yes, and yes,” he bit out.
The recklessness still firmly in control, I said, “Then come upstairs and fuck me, Mr. Cross.”
I marched across the parking lot toward my apartment building. Deacon was right behind me, and he made a disapproving snort when I opened the broken lobby door without using a key.
We walked up the two flights to my apartment. My heartbeat was very loud in my ears, and that giddy impulsiveness still held me in its tight grip. I opened my apartment door, dropping my purse in the hallway before kicking off my boots and shrugging out of my jacket.
I could hear Deacon locking the door behind me and removing his coat, but I walked straight to my bedroom. By the time he joined me, I had taken off my butter-stained shirt and unbuttoned my pants.
“We need to talk, Riley.”
“I don’t want to talk. I want to fuck,” I said, a little amazed by my crudeness. But, hell, I missed Deacon’s touch, his kisses, and his beautiful cock with an unrelenting ache. So much so that I was more than willing to let him hate fuck me. I didn’t even feel a hint of shame at how pathetic that made me. I loved Deacon, and I would take him however I could get him.
I started to shove my pants down my legs when Deacon said, “Why didn’t you tell me your mother has cancer?”
I froze before pulling up my pants and buttoning them. “You really know how to ruin the mood, don’t you?”
I yanked on a shirt and pushed past Deacon. I stalked to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of wine, but before I could open it, Deacon took it from my hands.
“Give that back,” I snapped.
“Not until after we talk,” he said.
“Fine,” I said snottily. “Talk.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were using the money to help pay for your mom’s chemo?” he asked.
“How do you even know that?”
“Lina accidentally told me,” he said.
I sighed. “Why does it matter what I needed the money for, Deacon?”
“Because I…”
“Because you would have judged me less if it was for something like that than just consumer debt, right?”
He muttered a curse before raking his hand through his hair. “Yes, which makes me a total prick.”
