chuckled and reached for the belt behind him. “Yes, ma’am.”
Once he was secure, I rechecked my mirrors and then took off. What might have been a ten-minute drive took me almost thirty. By the time we arrived, my good mood and excitement had gone to shit. Wren complained incessantly about almost everything I did.
“Stay in your lane, Louchana.”
“Red doesn’t mean go, Louchana.”
“Watch out for that baby in the stroller, Louchana.”
I was breathing fire by the time we arrived. Yanking the keys out of the ignition, I threw them in Wren’s lap and hopped out. His laughter followed me across the parking lot as I stomped toward the diner that looked like an air stream. By the time I reached the door, Wren had caught up to me. His arm locked around my waist as he pulled me into him from behind.
“You can’t drive for shit, but you didn’t kill us,” he whispered against my hair. “I’m thankful for that much.”
“You’re a dick,” I spat. And a tease. His cock was growing harder by the second. Surely, he must have known I’d feel it?
“I know,” he said while laughing.
I blinked, and words escaped me until I realized he was responding to my insult. He had no idea what I was thinking, but thanks to his cock lodged against my spine, I knew exactly what was on his mind. Wren didn’t let me go when he walked us inside. A beaming hostess wearing skates greeted us, and I knew we didn’t look anything like best friends should.
As she showed us to our table, my stomach growled loud enough to bring heat to my cheeks. They became inflamed when Wren rubbed his hand over my belly.
“Let’s get some food in you,” he said with a chuckle before letting me go and stepping around me. “You’re vicious enough when angry and downright terrifying when you’re hungry.”
I glared at his back. “I’ll just eat that pretty face of yours if you don’t shut up.”
He threw back his head and roared all the way to our seats while I looked around in awe at the brightly colored interior and vintage décor. The black and white checkered floors gleamed while the small booths—some blue, some pink—allowed for an intimate setting. There were photos of Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, Diana Ross, and James Dean hanging on the wall and there was even a jukebox in the corner. It looked like a scene straight out of the fifties, and I knew my mother would love it here.
When Wren turned and smiled, eyebrows raised expectantly, I knew he was hoping I would, too.
“Oh, God.” I groaned as I pushed away the plate that once held a slice of cherry pie. The waitress had just set down a large root beer float with two colorful straws before skating away. “Go on without me,” I told Wren. “I can’t eat another bite.”
Wren had ordered nearly half the menu, and we barely spoke a word to each other as we pigged out. The food was great, but the air between us had been…tense. I think we were both happy for the diversion since we sucked at pretending nothing had happened back at his grandmother’s house. The food at least gave us an excuse not to talk about it. Not to mention I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. Until we arrived, I hadn’t noticed my hunger. I’d been distracted by much more demanding needs.
Wren’s laugh was cut short when he reached for the cherry, and I snatched it before popping the treat in my mouth. “That was mine,” he gritted.
I stuck out my tongue, showing him the cherry and worked it like a cuckoo clock. In and out, in and out until his eyes turned completely blue. “You want it?” I teased. “Come and get it.”
I wasn’t prepared for him to do just that.
Gripping my jaw, he pressed his lips hard against mine until they parted on a gasp, and he stole the cherry from my tongue. I was still in shock when he pulled away and with blue eyes fixed on me, he chewed—slowly.
When he was done with the cherry, he pulled me into his lap, making it clear he wasn’t done with me. This time when he kissed me it was slow, allowing me to taste the sweet syrup on his tongue as he deepened the kiss and stole the air from my lungs. My hands found his hair at the same time his fingers dug into my hips, and