Pretty Little Savage (Sick Boys #1) - Lucy Smoke Page 0,93

with my pace. "If you don't tell me"—that deep baritone of his slides over my senses like audible porn and makes me want to stab my own eardrums out just to take back some of the power he's stolen from me—"then I'll just assume you want to go to this party and I'll carry your ass there as is."

I stop at the edge of the sidewalk. "Why?" I demand.

His lips turn down in a frown. "What do you mean why?"

"Why do you want me to go to some dumb party?" I ask.

"You're on lockdown, and therefore, where I go, you go."

My eyes roll back into my head and I snort, taking another few steps away. "Just go with the guys."

"They're already going." He reaches out and grabs me, halting any further movement. "Believe me, if I didn't have to go, I wouldn't be."

I debate what to do. I could still try to slip his grip and get away, but the likelihood is sinking by the second. Some guys are stronger than they look, and in Dean's case, he looks and acts just as strong as he actually is. The fingers circling my upper arm contract as he waits for me to make my decision.

"Let's make a deal," I suggest instead. "You take me where I need to go, no questions asked, and I'll go to your stupid party with you."

His dark eyes narrow on me as if sensing for a weakness or a lie. "Why?" he demands, his grip becoming punishingly tight.

I glare at him. "I said no questions asked," I snap. "But I promise to go to your dumb college party as long as you fulfill your end of the bargain."

"I told you no more bargains," he says, but his grip loosens slightly and he doesn't sound as suspicious anymore. In fact, he sounds curious.

A part of me wants to know what the hell I'm thinking. The lake is one of the only secret places that's just mine. He knows where I live. He knows every class I take—hell if he's not in them, then one of the others is. He has my schedule down to a science and is constantly following me and steering me where he wants me to be. The lake is supposed to mine. Yet, the thought of letting him go, of letting him see that side of me doesn't leave a bad aftertaste in my mouth like I expected.

"It's either that or I fight you every step of the way," I comment.

When his eyes trail down my face a second time, I let him see the truth of my statement. He might be controlling, but I can be just as stubborn. His lips twist and he considers it for a moment. Finally, he drops his arm away from mine completely, scrubbing a hand down his face as he groans. "Fuck," he mutters. "Fine. Let's go."

And the excitement is back.

I don't hesitate to trail after him as he leads me to the side of the street where his motorcycle is parked beneath the large canopy of a red maple tree. "Where am I going?" he asks.

Instead of telling him, I demand his phone and smirk when he scowls at me as he slides it back out of his pocket and hands it over. It's a newer model, the screen perfect and uncracked. It takes me a moment to figure out how to use it, but once I do, I find the map app and plug in the coordinates before giving it back.

"That's where we're going," I say.

Dean turns and fixes the phone to the front of his bike so that he'll be able to follow the little blue arrow as he drives. One strong leg slides over the seat and he settles in, reaching back for his helmet. He hands me one and I pause when he lifts a second and slides it over his head, snapping the chin strap into place before backing out of the parking spot and turning the engine on. He brought two helmets this time…

I don't know why that thought lingers in my mind. If he wants me to go to a stupid party and he'd come to pick me up, it makes sense. At the same time, though … I turn the helmet over in my hand, noticing that—unlike the one he now wears—it's unscratched and pristine as if he just purchased it.

“You getting on?” His voice is muffled by the plastic covering his face and roar of the