She hadn't slapped me yet.

Five minutes in her presence and she hadn't yelled once, or even flung a single insult in my direction. 

The moment I'd clocked the fear in her eyes and Hart coming up behind her in the dining hall and realized she was in need of a quick getaway, the realization caught up in my mind and I'd been all too happy to give her a way out. 

The reason she was fighting with Hart I'd have to find out another way, considering how much less talkative she was being now that we'd finally made it through the walk to my car in the parking lot. 

"This is your car?"

She motioned toward the sleek black two-door in front of us and merely shrugged, opening her door for her wondering when she would call all of this off and make a run for it. 

To my surprise, she huffed a sigh and fell into the front seat, and it wasn't long before I was rounding to the other side to get in. 

I was tempted to look over and stare—get lost in those thick wayward curls colored a bright toffee in the afternoon sun, capture her honey brown eyes with my own and drown her in the same way that I always seemed at a loss for air whenever mine connected with her own—but instead I kept my eyes to myself. 

Her flowery scent filled the air of my car and I'd be damned if I ever let it fade. 

I wasn't sure how, but I'd suddenly become someone that she trusted enough to give her a ride somewhere, even if I was only the lesser of two evils. 

I had only just started wondering what exactly Hart had said or done to make her so skittish and run away from him the way she had when she turned to me suddenly, a pensive little frown creasing the skin between her forehead, her corkscrew curls flying every which way but pulled into the braid spilling down her back in waves. 

"Do you need me to put it in your GPS?  It's the Museum of Natural History in downtown."

"Nah, I've got it.  So, wanna tell me why you changed your tune so quick?"

She turned back towards the road and crossed her arms in front of her chest, an adorably stubborn little pout on her pink lips. 

Had a few kisses and watching her from afar for only a few days really messed with my head so badly that only a little attention from her and I was already salivating?

"That's none of your business."

"Oh, come on.  I'm doing you a favor here," I began as I eased the car into drive, hitting the road slowly and as carefully as possible so as not to spook her.  

Who knew if she'd suddenly change her mind and try to jump out of a moving car?

"I can always take the bus."

"And risk being late?"

She peeked over at me, a twitch in her eyebrow. 

"Being late isn't...so bad..."

She ground the words out like they were scraping her teeth with metal.

Loosing a laugh from my chest and hitting my turn signal, I glanced over at her quickly before paying attention to the road again.  If I wasn't careful, we'd be getting into a wreck from how much I just wanted to stare at her. 

I hadn't been that close to her since the library the other night, and that was hardly enough to satisfy this craving for her that I'd somehow fallen right into.

"You probably hate being late to places even more than you hate me."

"That's debatable," she bit out dryly, a hint of a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. 

It was silent in the dull roar of the air conditioner and low rumble of the radio, at least until she decided to speak again.

"You don't make it that easy to find things that I hate more than you, though."

"Oh, is that so?  You find it hard to hate things that you hate more than me?  Well, we should make a list.  Number one—you hate people who run stop lights more than me?"

"Well, you don't know if they're in a hurry from an emergency, or if it was just an accident.  So no, I hate you more than people who run stop lights."

"Ouch.  Alright—serial killers.  You hate serial killers more than me, I hope?"

She pretended to think about that one for a minute, a mocking little finger tapping against her chin in faux-deep thought. 

"Hm. While I don't know serial killers personally, I hate their actions.  So you're right—I hate serial killers more than you."

"Great, so now we have a baseline—you hate me less than serial killers but more than people who run stop lights.  Surely we can find some middle ground in there somewhere?"

"Yeah, sure.  We can find some middle ground.  You treated me like shit, decided to kiss me, and now you're annoying me with your presence in the library, but I do appreciate the ride.  How's that?"

My hand slipped on the wheel at her words as they cut through the air like steel. 

So, this was probably going to be harder than I thought.

"Would it help if I apologized?  Told you that I was going through some shit with my dad—the one who's always been a major asshole?"

She scoffed slightly, shaking her head in my peripherals but I refused to look back over at her. 

"That depends—are you apologizing?"

"I'm sorry, Gracie.  I didn't mean to take my anger at him out on you, but when I met you at first, I was in a bad place.  Then later when I found out who you were, it only made everything that much worse.  He's the one who deserved it, not you.  I just—I didn't know you and I let the past cloud my judgement."

I didn't add the fact that I expected her to be just like her mother, either—that I couldn't discern mother from daughter in the moment, and that I was just expecting and waiting for the other shoe to drop on my head just like it had when I was only a kid. 

When it felt like he was the one who killed her, not the cancer. 

All because of what he did—who he did.

And her mother was the one behind it. 

Her mother, who'd seduced my father like it was child's play.  I hated that woman—hated her with such a fucking passion that yes, maybe, it would be a little satisfying to be able to say that I was the one who got her daughter in the end. 

And maybe that was how this obsession with Gracie Gatlin had begun, but it damn sure wasn't the reason I was following her around on campus and offering her rides and being her escape plan. 

It wasn't why I curled a lock of her hair around my finger absently while we were together in the library. 

It sure as hell wasn't why I'd crushed our mouths together at that party, and why I'd liked it so fucking much. 

Yeah, maybe it was why it had started, but it was definitely not the reason that it was going in the direction that it was. 

I only had to make Gracie aware of that. 

"I appreciate your apology.  Maybe you won't judge people you don't know right after you first meet them anymore."

There was still some righteous anger in her tone, but when I glanced over to her side profile, that cute little button nose turned up and her eyelashes fluttering up, there was a gleaming smirk written all over her face. 

"Yeah, maybe."

Pulling up to her destination with what seemed like minutes to spare, she began to quickly grab her things and look around frantically for her phone before she found it in between the seat and the front console. 

"Would you look at that—we made it through the whole car ride without killing each other, I think we need to celebrate.  I'll pick you up from here after your shift and take you out to dinner—when did you say you were done here again?"

"I—I didn't say when I was done.  And you can't just decide to take me out to dinner, you know there needs to be a question in there, right?"

Suddenly I couldn't control myself.  My hands had a mind of their own. 

My hand shot out to cradle the back of her head and lace with the hair there, her breath stalling out as her amber eyes widened in surprise.

The breath stuttered in my chest as she looked at me with those fucking eyes of hers—eyes that could see right to the bones of me. 

She peeled away layer after layer of skin until it was just muscle and bone, sinew and tissue and blood and the thoughts in my head I always tried to keep secret. 

I didn't have to close the distance between us, however, as that taut tension finally pulled a little too hard. 

The distance between her lips and mine snapped, and then she was there, her minty breath dancing on my lips as her hands danced in my hair. 

I'd never been kissed the way she kissed me—like she was drowning and yet gulping down the water to quench her thirst simultaneously. 

She sucked my bottom lip into her mouth and bit down, and suddenly I was pawing at her hips, yanking her over the console, spreading her out on my lap as my hands traced the lines of her thighs over her jeans, her hands drawing artistry over my skin. 

Gripping her jaw, I angled her face to fit my own as our tongues met and her resounding moan was like honey dripping down my throat. 

She ground her hips over mine just as the sound of a blaring alarm rang through the car and we sprung apart, panting, bleary eyed and frantic. 

"Shit, that's my alarm.  I'm going to be late."

She hurried over to her side of the car a bit clumsily but I didn't notice—I was trying to sort out a rather painful situation in my pants. 

"I—I have to go.  Um..."

"I'll be here when you get done working, Gracie."

Her cheeks were on fire, her freckles painted a dark brown between them. 

"Seven-thirty."

"Then I'll be here."

She blushed harder, grabbing the rest of her things before pausing on the handle of the door and turning those entrancing brown eyes on mine. 

"Thanks for the ride."

***

Author's Note:

What did you think of this chapter?

What do you think will happen next?

What do you want to happen next?

What drama do you think is going to happen soon?

Thank you so much to all of you who've stuck around since the beginning--I have so much more in store for this story!

Until next time my lovely readers,
Kristen :)