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Vincent (Made Men Book 2)(40)

By:Sarah Brianne


“Vincent, what the hell are you thinking?” She quickly turned around and pulled her shorts down to cover her butt again.

His dark, husky voice enveloped her body. “Sweetheart, you don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”

I do.

She licked her suddenly dry lips and backed up onto the hood of the car, trying to put some room between them. She couldn’t get her mind straight being that close to him.

“Um, Adalyn could see us.” Finally, she got out her thoughts.

“I told Amo to go distract her.” He took a step toward her, covering the front of her body.

“So, you knew this was going to happen?” It came out more breathy than she intended, still wanting to fight the urge to touch him.

Vincent rubbed his thumb over her wet bottom lip. “Sweetheart, my dreams of you haven’t been as good as you bent over the car.”

Lake’s eyes went from his baby-blue depths to his lips. She was so close to kissing him again. She’d had dreams about their last kiss and knew this one was only going to top it. The way he was talking to her made her femininity respond to every word. It scared her how much she wanted this, needed it.

She had to shut her eyes as she turned her head away from his incoming kiss. “Don’t,” she whispered.

He gently grabbed her chin and turned her face to look at him. “Why not? I know you want me, too, sweetheart.”

Lake didn’t want to tell him the truth, but she knew if she didn’t, he would kiss her. Vincent wasn’t a man a girl could say no to, either.

She had to look at his chest, unable to look him in the eye. “Because you’ll just tell me it’s a mistake and leave me again.”

Vincent dropped his hands from her and took a step back, running his hand through his hair. “You’re right; that’s not fair to you. I’m sorry.” He went to the hood of the car and started to work on it.

She knew she had made the right decision by how quickly he had changed, no matter how much it stung. He obviously only wanted a quick fuck from her, nothing else. It was the same thing he got from every other girl, and Lake wasn’t going to be merely a number to any guy, even if he had descended from the gods. I doubt he can even keep count anymore.

Watching him, she noticed she had seen her father do what he was doing.

“You know exactly what’s wrong with it, don’t you?”

“Yep.”

Oh, my God! Lake hit at his arm. “You’re such an ass. You did that so you could get a better look at my butt, didn’t you?”

Vincent looked up from under the hood of the car and flashed a smile. “Sweetheart, I’ve warned you twice not to dress like that, and trust me, your tight little ass was begging for it in those shorts.”

She didn’t comprehend exactly what he said to her at first, still finding him irresistible when he talked to her like that. No, he isn’t!

“Well, your sister didn’t exactly tell me I was going to the mall with you all, and I didn’t exactly know my car was going to do this, either.”

“Is this the car you’re taking with you to college?” he asked, sounding almost concerned.

Lake looked down at the pavement as the realization that she no longer had the money to go to college finally hit her. She had no idea how she was going to tell Adalyn—or anyone, for that matter—too embarrassed of why she could no longer go. That was why she wasn’t going to tell him.

“No, it’s my dad’s car. I’m planning to get an apartment just a mile down the road, so I won’t need one.”

“You mean, you’re going to a new fucking city where you don’t know anyone, and you plan to walk everywhere?”

She didn’t like the way it had come out in a yell, and if she didn’t know any better, she would think he almost cared.

“That or take a bus. Or, what the hell, I’ll find someone to give me a ride.”

“You better be fucking joking, Lake,” he growled at her.

“Don’t pretend like you care about me.” She turned to go sit back in her car. She could wait there for him to fix it.

Vincent quickly grabbed her hand to stop her. “I do care about you, sweetheart.”

She still got amazed by how quickly his voice could turn from furious to smooth as butter. Looking into his baby-blues, she believed him.

“You do?” she quietly asked, wanting to hear him say it again.

“Of course. You’re my sister’s best friend.”

That was when the moment died for her. He only cared about her because of Adalyn. Of course it wouldn’t be because of me. Finally, she understood the difference between them. She cared about Vincent because she liked him, not because he was her best friend’s brother.