I keep my mouth closed. This cop doesn’t give a fuck what the issue is, he just wants it to go away.
“It’s just a misunderstanding,” she interjects, turning all her attention on the cops. I watch from the corner of my eye as his beady gaze travels over her.
“What happened, honey?” the squishy around the middle bastard asks.
“Just an accident,” she says and pulls my arm so I’m closer to her. “He bumped into me, and Rafe lifted his arm to block him from coming back anymore.” She lifts her free hand and mimics my move without the shoving.
“She’s a lying bitch,” Charlie spouts. My heart starts to beat faster. This guy needs to learn when to keep his mouth closed. One of the reasons I always win in a fight is because I’m able to stay calm and clearheaded, but this fucker is pissing me off.
“Shut your mouth,” the cop snaps. “Let’s go, the whole group of you.” He waves his hand, beckoning the guys to come toward him while using his other hand to pinch the button on his radio near his shoulder, and then he starts calling for backup.
“I didn’t do shit,” Charlie rages indignantly, while the rest of his friends each show signs of relief that it’s over and disgust at his behavior.
“I’m tired of this shit, Charlie. We can’t go anywhere with you.”
“Fuck you, Mickey. That guy started it,” Charlie bitches, but he follows his friends, who are taking direction from the cops as they escort them away from us and probably to an exit. There goes my hope of running into them later, or in the parking lot.
I watch them until their entire group is swallowed up by the crowd, then move us forward about twenty feet in the line. The people around us make a point of pretending like nothing happened and resume their conversations.
I find myself not wanting to look at her to see her reaction. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t run headfirst into a fight, consequences be damned. You’d think I’d be happy I didn’t have to kill them, but I feel like a punk for not doing more.
She stays quiet, as do I, until we reach the front of the line, then I release the death grip I have on her hand so she can get into the little carriage of the ride. I notice her wringing the hand I was holding and how red her fingers are once she’s seated, and then I slide in next to her. The cart rocks a little, making me feel off balance as we settle.
Her eyes are cast down at the silver circle rising up from the center of the carriage. The fact that she isn’t looking at me makes me more nervous than thinking about fighting four men. I don’t know what I should say to fix it though. I just want to demand for her not to be mad at me, but even my fucked-up head knows that wouldn’t work.
I settle on admitting my fault when the ride swiftly moves ahead so more people can get off and others can get on. “I’m sorry I wasn’t paying more attention and he bumped into you.”
Her blue eyes leap up to mine. “It’s not your fault he bumped me. It was just an accident,” she says quickly.
“He should have been paying more attention, so should I, and it wouldn’t have happened.” The ride moves ahead again, but this time when it stops, we’re much higher, maybe halfway up, and the cart is swinging back and forth freely, but I can’t force myself to look away from her face.
“It wasn’t a big deal.” She bites her bottom lip. “You didn’t need to push him,” she adds softly.
“He bumped into you.” I’m confused by her remark.
“Yeah, but it was just an accident. He didn’t do it on purpose.” Her eyes are wide, like she’s begging me to understand something, but I still don’t get it. It doesn’t matter if there was intent behind his actions. His actions could have caused her harm, and that’s not acceptable. “When you shoved him, that was on purpose.”
“No shit. Would you have rather I put him down right then?” I tilt my head to the side. I probably should have. Nobody was paying attention.
She shakes her head quickly. “I would rather you didn’t do anything.”
“What?” The ride jerks into motion again, taking us almost to the very top before stopping. She reaches forward and grips the metal circle in the middle of the cart, her knuckles going white with the effort of holding onto the thing. The rocking of the cart eases so it’s not so wild, and her eyes close slowly with relief.
She’s scared but arguing with me. Fuck if my dick doesn’t get hard. I scoot closer to her, and it makes the ride rock again. She tenses up. “I don’t remember this being so high.” She gulps, trying to chuckle, but I can see and hear her fear.
“Are you afraid of heights?” The bluntness in my tone is gone. Suddenly, the fucker and his friends aren’t important anymore.
“I didn’t think so.” She’s looking up at me with pleading eyes. I can just imagine her on her knees in front of me with that same look on her face, praying to me for salvation. I place my hand on her thigh above her knee and run my fingers up the inside of her leg. Something tells me if I tried this any other time, she would snap her legs closed, but she doesn’t right now. Instead, her eyes are locked on mine, waiting to see what I’m going to do next.
“I’m never going to be a man that does nothing,” I tell her, taking the conversation back to the prior incident. I’m always looking for an advantage, and if her fear gives it to me, I will take it. “You’ll learn to accept that about me…accept me,” I murmur, and my words start to get too close to the truth, so I lean forward and give her a slow, leisurely kiss unlike the earlier one.
Her chest leans into mine, and I skate my fingers higher up her leg. The afternoon sun is warm, but it’s nothing compared to the heat coming off her body or from between her legs. She yelps right into my mouth when the ride moves again and pushes against my lips harder, like she needs the distraction of my kiss to keep her from thinking about the fact that we’re above the treetops, swinging in a metal contraption built by hungover drunks and people who can’t survive in regular society.
I slide my hand up her back, then grab the nape of her neck and pull her away from my kiss with a tight grip. Her lips are damp and pink, and she’s looking at me like she’s wondering why I stopped. I’m not even sure myself. I just wanted to know I could, wanted to see if that tingle of fear was still alive in her or if I erased it with my touch.
So very slowly, I lean in to press my lips to hers, but it’s a teasing caress. Just enough to make her crave more. She scoots closer to me, and the move has my fingers just under her ass. Is she asking for more, or was it just an attempt to get closer to me? Either option works. The ride starts circling faster now that everyone is loaded on. My stomach bottoms out into my balls when we reach the top and descend quickly. She tucks herself even closer to me, and both of her hands grip my shirt instead of the wheel.
I cup my hand over her pussy. She jerks her mouth back and looks into my eyes, but she doesn’t move her body or try to make me remove my hand from between her legs. Her heat is all over my palm. I shift as we near the bottom so the people on the platform and the guy running the ride can’t see what I’m doing to her. She lets out a little sound that I can barely hear, but I don’t need to hear it to know what it means. It’s the sound of her surrender, whether she knows it or not.
