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I’ll drive her home and then I’ll go take a cold shower.
Maybe I’ll drive out to the gym and beat the shit out of a bag until the only thing I can think about is sweat and exhaustion.
She’s not supposed to be out with me. We made a promise to Anthony. Well, I made a promise and she lied her ass off about being out with friends while she stood outside the gym waiting to corner me.
“Really, Simon?” She’s spitting mad.
“Your brother is going to murder me, Daph,” I insist. My hands ache from how tight I’m gripping the steering wheel. “What were you thinking?”
“That I’m eighteen. An adult. If I want to hang out with a friend, then I should be allowed to do it.” She sits up straight, regal and gorgeous, and rolls her eyes. “Besides, Anthony has no control over me. My mother, on the other hand, approves of my decision to start going to the gym.”
“Yeah, the gym,” I snort.
“It’s a workout, is it not?” She’s so innocent with those wide eyes, even when she knows precisely what she’s doing. All that anger has melted away, leaving room for only one goal.
“Daphne, I’m going to need you to at least stop putting me in these situations.”
“What situations?” She unbuckles her seatbelt, smirking like she knows something I don’t.
We’re so close to her house, all she needs to do is be normal for about a minute and a half more. It’s not a difficult ask, and it would take one word from me to get her to put that belt back on and sit still. But I’m weak. So, as she turns in her seat, I pull over.
In the glow of the street lights, she’s ethereal. She swings herself over the center console and into my lap, hands on my shoulders. There’s that confidence that makes her burn so bright. She breathes against my lips, sweet and off limits, and waits for me to make the next move. Her fingers are cold, gentle, right up against the bruises today’s training left on my jaw from allowing myself to be used as Will’s warmup fight.
My hands rest on her thighs, a soft landing, and all I have to do is breathe in the scent of her shampoo and perfume to relax back into the headrest. Everything about her is enticing.
This is where we’re meant to be.
“I never knew you to be a coward,” she challenges, nipping at my bottom lip.
“And I thought you were smart,” I say, already giving in.
She kisses like the world is ending and she wants this to be her last memory. Her hands are searching, frantic, and her lips are plush. She tongue slides against mine, always ready to battle for dominance until we’re both blushing, panting messes of ourselves.
Her body is perfectly molded to mine, so soft in my hands and ready to go. She rocks against me and I release a moan into her mouth, causing her to shiver involuntarily with pleasure.
We’re so caught up in each other, neither of us notice the cop lights right behind us.
“Excuse me,” an officer shouts, rapping on the window with his fist.
While I go rigid with fear, Daphne only lifts her chests and blinks flirtatious up from under her eyelashes at the man. As she rolls down the window, she leans toward him. “Enjoying the show?”
“I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.”
“But we weren’t done yet,” she pouts.
“Ma’am, I’m not asking. Get out of the vehicle.”
With a heavy sigh, as though this is an inconvenience, Daphne opens the door and rolls of my lap. She reaches back to offer me a hand.
I take my time, turning off the car, finding my ID. There’s so many things that can go wrong here. My heart beats hard inside my chest, threatening to burst from my body and explode out into the world. If I pass out, then they might let me off with a warning. Maybe they’d let her, all cockiness and calm, shove me into the backseat and drive me home. She can keep my car.
Does she even have a drivers license?
Daphne tucks her hand into mine and tugs me close, chest to chest as she blatantly ignores the stares of the officer. She leans in close, lips next to mine once more. “Think we should run for it?”
Something in her eyes, that determined glint and shared joke, spreads through my body like that first shot. Despite our circumstances, laughter bubbles up in my chest. The twitch of her lips says she agrees, but the question in the quirk of her eyebrows dares me to let her lead the way.
“Alright, Miss. What’s your name?” The officer begins to scribble away on his notepad before she even answers.
“Who called you?” She places a hand on her hip and steps toward the man, like a threat.
“Ma’am, what’s your name?”
“Why? I’m sure you already know.”
She’s so… white. The melanin within my skin causes me to curl into myself, to revert to nothing more than a singular figure who hides behind his license and registration like it might save him from retribution. I could never challenge someone with a gun. The very thought, her own speech, has me quivering in my seat as though I may be shot at any second.
“Come one,” she snorts, “this is a Bridgerton thing. Let it go.”
A Bridgerton thing isn’t very revealing to me. I’m the person who stumbled back home, determined to pick a fight with anything unwilling to recognize me, and now I’ve got a whole ass Bridgerton within my car for no reason other than my desire to get her out of my face.
Fuck.
Shit.
Save me.
“It was a Bridgerton who called us,” the cop says, so confident and proud as though they summoned him themselves.
“Which one?” She asks, eyes narrowed.
“Ma’am, it’s none of your concern.” He takes my license from my hands without asking and examines the picture. “Simon Basset. You’re looking a little rough for wear, aren’t you? Get in a fight?”
“Why do you want to know?” Daphne asks.
“Cars registered to an Agatha Danbury.” He squints at the paper and then up at me. “Any relation? If I called her would she know that you’re driving around in her car?”
“She’s his aunt.”
Her hand tightens around mine, as though she means to squeeze me into submission. I’m more than happy to allow her to speak on my behalf. She leans against me, like a shield, and raises an eyebrow toward the cop. Not once does she glance my way, but I can’t take my eyes off of her.
“Right,” the cop says, though he doesn’t seem to believe her.
A second car, clearly summoned, stops behind the first and another pot bellied man saunters his way over to us. He keeps a hand on his belt, itching for his piece, and gives me a long, withering look. “What’s going on here?”
“Run this for me,” the first says, handing over my paperwork.
“Gosh, you’re really doing the most,” Daphne jokes, tossing her hair and turning that dazzling smile on the second man until he fumbles away with pink cheeks.
“Alright, miss,” the first begins.
“No, it’s not alright. What were we doing? Why do you have us out of the car? We weren’t doing anything illegal.”
Yet, I think.
“You’re on private property,” the man decides.
“People own the side of the road now? We’re parked on the shoulder. The closest house is still two miles away. How did they even know we were here if they weren’t stalking us?” She pulls her phone out of her pocket here and checks who she shares her location with. I don’t want to be in the house when she narrows down her selections to the perceived snitch.
“If you keep this up, you’re going to jail for trespassing.”
Trespassing on her own land. That’s certainly a new one. The quirk of her lips, still swollen, tells me all I need to know.
To think I thought I was the stubborn one in this relationship.
“Looks like you’ll have to arrest me, then.”
Oh, fuck. Here we go. She’s not backing down, not melting under his gaze. As I shrink into her, she becomes more prominent and confident, like she can build a wall around me to protect us from whatever is to come. Her thumb rubs circles against the back of my hand.
The other cop returns and hands me back my license. He has nothing to say about it, though a bit put out, as though he’s irritated that I’ve got no record.
“Ma’am, turn around and put your hands behind your back,” the original cop says.
It might only be a scare tactic, an attempt to convince her to be normal for even a moment, but all she does is step in front of me, pressed tight against my chest, and place her hands behind her back. She smiles up at me, like this is nothing at all. Despite everything, I find myself smiling back at her, as though it’s contagious.
Then she’s pulled away, her hands in handcuffs as she shoves her toward his car.
“You’re going to regret this,” she insists, but there’s no anger to it, only amusement.
“Shut up,” the cop growls. His hand is on top of her head, further messing up her hair, as she shoves her into the back of his car. He’s unamused and unaware of how this will all play out for him.
“I know my rights,” she continues. “This is illegal and unnecessary. We weren’t doing anything wrong. This is why we have issues within this country. You come out here and abuse your power for stupid little things like people enjoying a moment together. What do you get out of this? Do you enjoy ruining the mood? Is that a kink for you?”
She keeps going, rattling through a variety of choice words and accusations as he shuts the door in her face and heaves a sigh.
“Sir, put your hands behind your back.” He’s so defeated, so done with the girl in the back continuing to shout about her rights, he actually called me sir. All the fight has left his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”
The process is mortifying. It’s cold metal on my skin, a pasty hand on my head, and more force than necessary as he shoves me in beside her.
“Welcome to my crib,” she says.
“Daph…”
“Do you think they’ll light this for me?” She holds up a pen and gives me a wink as the cop slides into the front seat. “I really can’t do this long without a smoke.”
“I’m going to need you to be quiet for the rest of the ride,” he says, more of a plea than a command. He rubs his forehead as though she’s managed to give him a headache already and then peels off down the road with his buddy on his tail.
“That’s fine,” she says, totally at ease in the backseat. “I’ll call my brother when we get there.”
“And what’s he going to do about it?” The cop is mocking.
“Remove the charges and yell at you.”
The cop goes pale, white as a ghost in the moonlight, and the car slows down to a crawl. He nervously rubs at his face. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Daphne.” She sits up straight and smirks. “Daphne Bridgerton.”
She’s a goddess in the streetlights, so bright and mischievous, like the world bows down at her feet. Her hair is wild, her lipstick is smeared, and there’s that glow in her eyes that she gets every time she corners me after work. I’ve never been more attracted to someone, more desperate to hold her tight against my chest for all of eternity to show that I’m the chosen one, the one the goddess has shined her light upon. She picked me.
This time I kiss her, giving it my all despite the handcuffs, and she giggles against my lips. We press together, hot and determined. She’s right here and perfect.
“Back to your car?” She whispers.
“Hell yeah.”