"Erin?"

Please don't talk. I can't move, don't want to.

"Erin," he says firmer. "Open your eyes, now."

I do.

He licks his fingers. "You taste sweet."

When I think sweet, I think cotton candy and pink lemonade. "Please." I broke all the rules. Ones I set between us, and I'm pretty sure deep fingering is a type of penetrative intercourse. I'm screwed, in more ways than one.

"We can't ignore what happened."

Oh yes we can. We have to. "Please."

"Begging doesn't suit you, Erin. You never have to plead for anything."

"I-I'm sorry." Not for kissing, not even for sharing my first I-didn't-give-it-to-myself o.r.g.a.s.m with him. I'm sorry for denying him, for depriving myself. I'm too embarra.s.sed to admit it though.

"Have you ever been touched and licked like that before?"

What kind of question is that? How can I screw up laying on my back? Is virgin tattooed on my forehead?

He stands, staring down at me. "Answer me."

I'm sure I look pathetic sprawled in the sand. "I don't know what came over me."

"Is that a no?"

I stare at his chest, the lesser of two evils compared to his eyes.

"Want an explanation?" He smirks.

"No." I stagger to my feet, brushing sand from my backside. It's everywhere, in my hair, under my shirt, and in my shorts.

"I need to know, Erin."

"Why?"

"Because I care."

I can't answer. He'll figure it all out if I do. "Please take me home."

"All right." He tucks my hand into the crook of his arm and we walk in silence.

As we approach my condo, I can see Katie sitting on the sofa through the windows. Great, how will I ever explain myself?

Foster halts at the end of my driveway and faces me. "We need to-"

"Tomorrow. Call me in the morning."

He sighs, then digs his car keys from his front pocket. "Don't disappear on me again," he says. "I'll find you."

We don't say anything afterward, just stare at each other until he decides he's had enough. I watch helplessly as he gets into his car, backs out of the driveway, and speeds away.

I'm bad, really bad. Foster Wagner is not the type of man you trifle with.

Chapter 13.

Foster Stupid motherf.u.c.ker, I'm drenched in Erin's scent. h.e.l.l, I'm drowning in it. I don't want to wash my hand for a week. My b.a.l.l.s ache. Erin was hot and so f.u.c.king tight, and I'm probably the first man to get her off. Her virginity has been a point of contention, but after feeling her and tasting that sweet p.u.s.s.y, I've changed my mind.

I pull off the highway, stopping on the shoulder, then slam my hands on the steering wheel. I've waited eight years for another shot. Eight. There wasn't a woman I dated or banged that compared to her. This isn't just about s.e.x, I want her to trust me, need me.

My phone rings and I fish it out of the center console without looking at caller ID. "It better be good, it's f.u.c.king late."

"Foster?"

"Erin?" Should have checked. "Sorry, baby. I'm not in a great mood."

"If it makes any difference, I don't regret what happened."

"Makes all the difference." I sigh and close my eyes, imagining her sitting on the edge of her bed naked and touching herself. "I can't stop thinking about you."

She takes a deep breath. "Ever since you showed up at my store . . ." Her voice fades.

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Tell me what you're thinking, Erin."

"I kinda lied to you at lunch."

"About what?"

"Thomas Kingsley."

Focused on us, I never expected to hear his name, certainly not during this conversation. "Don't say it," I growl.

"I don't have a choice."

She's trying to open up to me. I should welcome the truth. But anything that involves Kingsley and Erin isn't okay. I'd rather shoot him.

"Can you hear me?"

"I'm here." Barely.

"My parents expect me to marry him."

"f.u.c.k!" I toss the phone on the pa.s.senger seat.

"Foster?"

I hear her, but stare away. Entanglements, the very thing I wanted to avoid. I reach for the cell and hold it to my ear. "Tell me one thing, Erin. Why did you open your legs for me if you're going to marry him?" Rage uncoils in my stomach.

"I don't want to be his wife."

"It's settled then, we don't need to discuss it any further."

"Yes, we do. If I don't marry him, my parents will cut me off."

Economics is my first language, but using money as leverage to force your only child to marry someone she despises is a new low. "Don't do it."

"It's not that simple."

"Yes, it is," I counter.

"Not everything is black and white."

"Never said it was, but in this case, a firm no will work just fine."

"It's not just about me, Foster."

"G.o.dd.a.m.nit, Erin. You're the only one who has to live with Kingsley. So it most a.s.suredly is about you."

She sighs. "Remember that camping trip we took to the beach?"

Is she s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with me on purpose? "How could I forget, we slept curled together under the stars."

"I still have those pictures."

"So do I." I keep them in my dresser.

"I look at them often."

"Are you crying?"

"N-No, just feeling nostalgic for some reason."

I squeeze my eyes shut. One word from her and I'll turn this car around and show her why we belong together. "I want you."

"I know."

There's no words to describe how it feels hearing her admit she knows how I feel. Common sense tells me to leave it, to resist interfering with her life. If she can't figure out how to stand up to her parents, then maybe she deserves what she gets. But I can't walk away, not now. And not everyone is a.s.sertive and independent, especially Erin. She's so sweet and innocent, just waking up really. I gaze out the window, staring heavenward. It's a vast universe, and if you feel lonely, it's even harder to live. "Let me help you."

Silence.

Her deep breath shudders through me. "I wish you could."

"I don't mean to press you so hard."

"Good night, Foster," she whispers.

"Good night, baby."

Tonight sealed the deal. She's mine.

Foster "Erin caused quite the stir at the party last night," Kevin offers as he enters my office, grinning.

"Don't." I silence him with a wave of my hand, still furious over last night. Add sleep deprivation into the mix, and I'm close to snapping.

"Did you see her last night?"

"More."

"You didn't . . ."

"No."

"You look like s.h.i.t, Wagner."

I raise my head, caring little for his opinion. "And?"

"Let me prescribe a mild sleeping pill, you need to catch up on ZZZ's."

"You know better, I hate drugs."

"Talk to me." He sits on the black leather chair in front of my desk.

"Are prearranged marriages a Texas thing?" A stupid question.

"Considering it's not the Dark Ages, I'd venture to say no. But marriages of convenience are."

"Money?"

"Always."

I drum my fingers on the edge of my desk, staring at the bid doc.u.ments I need to finish. "Are Erin's parents in financial distress?"

"Walter Covington's a.s.sets took a major blow during the recession but he's far from broke."

Stressed enough to hand-pick his daughter's husband. Something I hadn't taken seriously until last night. What the f.u.c.k is a make-believe fiance? "Finish that background check on Kingsley today. I want anything you can find. Dig deep."