Page 183 of Pucking Strong

“Don’t what? Apologize? I have to if I feel like I’ve done something wrong. And I have—”

“He attacked you!”

I shake my head, tears stinging hot and heavy. “You didn’t hear it all.”

“I heard enough.”

“I goaded him. He pissed me off. I said things to stir him up, even when I knew he was drunk. I did this—”

“Just stop.” Henrik shifts gears and the Porsche picks up as we race down the beach highway. “No more talking. I need quiet.”

I bite my bottom lip, heart racing faster than the car. Each breath sits shallow in my chest. Henrik passes the first turn that would lead back towards our apartment. Then he passes the second. “Henrik—”

“It’s fine.”

“But that was the exit.” I glance over my shoulder. “Babe, we’re driving in the wrong direction.”

“We’re not going home.”

My heart races faster. We’re going in the wrong direction to get to Karolina too. “Then … where are we going?”

“Out.”

“Out where?”

He just keeps driving.

After about fifteen minutes of silent driving down the A1A, Henrik pulls off onto a dark sandy road that looks like it leads right into a damn sand dune.

I sit up in my seat, looking around. “Babe, driving on the dunes is all kinds of illegal.”

The car takes a sharp turn around a row of low palm trees, and then we’re in a small, six-car parking lot, all but tucked away from the main road. Ours is the only car here. The Porsche’s headlights gleam on a large sign at the end of the lot that clearly states there’s no parking after dark.

“Babe, we can’t park here—”

“Get out.” Henrik turns off the car, opens his door, and steps out.

I have no choice but to scramble out after him. I stand next to the car, breathing in the crisp beach air. It’s salty and a little sweet, with just a hint of brine. I look up, spying all the stars overhead. “Man, it’s beautiful out here,” I say, still looking around. “How did you even know about this place?”

Henrik steps around the front of the car and pulls me to him, taking me with another rough kiss. I melt against him, arms going around his neck. His kisses are fevered and claiming. He nips with his teeth, all but bending me back until I’m pressed up against the side of the car.

“Hen—”

“I heard you.”

I search his face by the light of the stars, hands brushing down his chest. “Heard what?”

“In the hallway. With him. I heard what you said.”

My mind races as I think back through all the horrible things that were said. Corey was the drunk asshole, but it certainly wasn’t my finest moment either. I grimace. “Which part?”

Henrik leans in, his hips pressing against mine. “The part where he called me a clumsy Swedish asshole.”

My heart skips a beat as he lowers his hands to the top of my athletic pants. “Henrik …”

“What did you say, Teddy?”

I lick my lips, my breathing shallow as he slips a hand inside my pants, stroking my dick over my briefs. I groan, bracing him by the arms. “Oh, fuck.”

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