Smolder (Georgia Smoke #6)

• Fourteen •

“Life isn’t a fairy tale, Royal.”

Sebastian

This was not what my father had been thinking when he set his plan in motion. He’d taken over and used me like a damn puppet on a string. It had worked. The way Royal was looking at me right now, she was feeling something. And I fucking liked it. I wanted it. But knowing it had all been manipulated meant this wasn’t real. Whatever it was she thought she felt for me was because my father had spoon-fed it to her.

Dinner had been fun. I found myself enjoying her laugh, feeling warm shit in my chest when she smiled at me. I wasn’t so sure the family was right about her. There were facts, and then there was speculation. What we thought fit. But they didn’t know her. They hadn’t sat and listened to her talk about her Grams or tell stories of her childhood. She was a hustler, swindler, whatever you wanted to label it, but it was how she survived. I could respect that. Hell, I’d done much worse.

She let out a squeal and jumped when a rabbit crossed in front of our path. I pulled her against my side with my arm over her shoulders.

“Easy, Ace. It’s just a bunny. Last time I checked, those aren’t killer around these parts,” I teased.

“You never know.”

A phone started ringing, and I knew it wasn’t mine. I’d never read her last text message, and until this moment, I’d forgotten all about it. She had that effect on me. It had become just us. No ulterior motives.

Stopping, she reached into her purse and pulled out the phone. The screen said Miller’s . It was the bar her father went to often.

“Hello?” she said.

She began walking quickly back toward the car, as if to get space between us, not realizing my stride was much longer than hers.

“Already? Jesus, Glenn, how much has he had?” she asked, sounding frustrated.

It was just after ten, and she was getting the come get your drunk father call. I didn’t like that fucker, but hearing what she dealt with on a regular basis had pushed me to the verge of hating him. She was on a first-name basis with the bartender, it seemed.

“I’m out. I’ll need to go home and get my car first.” She paused. “Please don’t call the cops, Glenn. I can’t handle that again.”

After letting out a sigh, she thanked him and ended the call.

“I’m sorry,” she began when she turned back to look at me.

The pained expression on her previously happy face pissed me off.

Damn that asshole.

“No need to apologize,” I told her.

She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded, continuing to walk at her fast pace. As much as I wanted her tucked against me with my arm around her, this was probably saving my ass from doing something stupid. Like pressing her against the side of my car and jerking up that short dress until I could get my fingers inside her panties.

Nope. Don’t think about it.

We were at the car in minutes, and I did my damnedest to watch the road as I started driving back to her house while she took off the rain boots and began putting her heels back on. All that skin I didn’t get to touch. Teasing me with it. Yeah, I didn’t care if this was for the best. I hated that motherfucker for ending the night before I wanted to.

She was silent most of the way back, and by the way she held her body, I could tell she was tense. Unable to resist any longer, I reached over and took one of her fisted hands, then flipped it over. With the pad of my thumb, I caressed her fingers, and she relaxed them, slowly opening until she wasn’t pressing her nails into her palm anymore.

I glanced at her, and she was watching me rub her hand. I ran my fingers from the tops of hers, all the way down to the base of her palm, then back up, continuing the pattern. The sound of her breath hitching made my cock start to stiffen again. I bet she sounded fucking amazing when she got off.

“Better?” I asked her.

She nodded. “Yes,” was her whispered response.

“I’ll go with you to get him,” I said.

Her head snapped up, and she looked at me, wide-eyed. “No. No, you don’t have to do that. It’s fine, really.”

I’d go straight there, but he wasn’t fitting in the back of this car. She could argue with me all she wanted, but I was going to Miller’s with her. Mostly because I hated thinking of her dealing with him on her own, but there was also the thought of her walking into that bar, dressed like she was, that wasn’t helping my mood.

“I want to,” I told her.

“I don’t want you to.”

I cut my eyes at her. “Ready to get rid of me so soon?”

A sad smile touched her lips. “No, it’s not that. I wish …” She sighed. “I was enjoying the evening. I don’t want it to end with you seeing my drunk father, acting like a jerk at the bar.”

I laced my fingers through hers and held her hand. “Life isn’t a fairy tale, Royal. We all deal with real shit. I’m not going to go running when I see what yours looks like.”

She laid her head back against the seat as her fingers curled around my hand as if she needed me. That one little move triggered an odd reaction deep inside me. I didn’t recognize it, and I wasn’t sure this was a good thing. The closest description I could think of to label it was pleasure , but that wasn’t strong enough. There was a dangerous edge to it. Almost as if a predator had been lying dormant in my soul and it had just been woken up for the first time, currently sated.

But what would happen when it wasn’t?