Page 117 of Privilege

He flashed his teeth in a sexy smile. “You sure?”

“Yeah, Ren.”

And wasn’t that just great?

She thought so.

“This way,” he said suddenly.

Without warning, Renzo pulled Lucia into an alleyway between two businesses. She had thought they were just going to walk until one of them got tired, and decided to either hail a cab, or catch a bus. Renzo apparently had different plans. At the end of the alley sat a familiar bright red, vintage Mustang.

Lucia laughed. “Borrowed it again, did you?”

He shrugged as they neared the waiting car. “I was not taking a bus all the way here, I missed the subway and didn’t want to wait, and I wasn’t paying for a cab when this was right around the corner. And yeah, we can go with borrow. Sure, why not?”

“Ren!” She smacked the back of his shoulder with her palm. “You didn’t take it, did you?”

“Is take the new word for steal, or …?”

“Renzo!”

He didn’t give her a chance to blink before he turned quick, and caught her around the waist with his arms. The force of his kiss sent her stumbling back until her back came in contact with the hard brick. Demanding, rough, and harsh, his kiss felt like the best kind of sin as his tongue warred with hers. All she could do was fist his jacket, and drag him impossibly closer. Those hands of his hand up to wrap into the waves of her hair, and tug just enough to make her scalp sting.

Shit.

She loved that.

He only broke their kiss when her lungs were burning for air, and her lips were numb. The slight tingling left on her skin from his facial hair made her wish he had been between her thighs instead.

Renzo’s thumb came up to press against the seam of her lips as his other hand curved softly around her throat. He’d never squeeze … at least, not like this. Only when she asked for it, and only because she wanted it, Lucia knew.

“Don’t worry about the fucking car,” he murmured, his gaze drifting over her features with such intensity that she swore her heart skipped a beat. Yeah, damn. She’d missed him something terrible. “I will drop it off where the guy keeps it tucked away in a warehouse tonight, and he will never even know it was taken out. The speedometer is broken, anyway. It can’t record miles driven. He takes it out maybe twice a year for car shows. It’s a fucking waste.”

Lucia blinked. “You’re terrible.”

“I fucking missed you.”

Her throat went dry.

Her stomach clenched.

The best ache started between her thighs.

“How’s that back seat?” she asked.

God knew they had better things to do.

Other things to worry about.

But fuck it. She was eighteen, and eighteen meant she didn’t have to always be smart and do the right thing. Sometimes, it meant having fun, and taking risks. It meant being risky, and oh, so reckless. Eighteen was the time to do all of that, and there was no one else she would rather do it with than the man looking at her.

“Still big enough for the both of us,” he said.

“So why are we still out here and not in there?”

“Good point.”

His laughter echoed all around before he tugged her toward the car, and Lucia happily followed. It felt like a blink, and she found herself in the back seat of the Mustang with Renzo hovering above her. He took no time at all to strip her of her clothes, and he of his, too. They made a pile on the floor, forgotten and unwanted. God knew she didn’t want anything between them.