Page 52 of Hash

Hash whips around, making me take a step back. “Was that really necessary? Are you shitting me right now, Aisling?”

“No, I’m not shitting you! I didn’t do anything wrong!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up.

“Stop talking. You’re digging yourself a deeper hole.” Hash grabs my hand again and drags me toward the parking lot.

“A deeper hole? There is no hole! We aren’t together!” I’m full-on yelling now.

“Will you shut the fuck up?”

“Don’t tell me to shut the fuck up!”

“Do you want everyone in Ravenna Heights to hear you carrying on?”

Hash abruptly stops without warning, making me slam into his hard back. My body responds to the contact, heating in places where no one has been since him.

“I’m allowed to go out with other people, Hash.”

Hash opens the passenger door of an older black Mustang. This must be the car he was talking about working on the other night.

“Are you trying to piss me off even more? You know damn well what’s going on here. I’m giving you one pass because I know we’re new again and you don’t know what it’s really like to be with a man like me. But baby doll, mark my words, if I see you out with another man again, I’ll fucking kill him. Audience or not.”

My brow hits my hairline as my eyes widen. “We’re new again? We aren’t together!”

“Did you not just have my baby?”

“Our baby,” I correct. “I can’t believe I have to be the first person to tell you this, but two people can have a child and not be together. Crazy, right?” My tone is dripping with sarcasm. I know I’m pushing it, but right now I don’t give a single flying fuck.

“Watch it,” Hash warns.

“Or what?” I snap.

Hash looks at me for a beat before saying, “Fuck it.”

He swoops down, tucking his shoulder at my waist and throwing me over it.

“Hash!” I scream as I feel a breeze on my bare ass from my dress bunching up. “People can see my ass!”

His palm comes down on it with a hard slap that echoes throughout the parking lot. I try to contain the moan that comes up my throat, but I fail as it slips through my lips.

“That’s one for wearing this dress for another man.”

“What—” I get out before his palm comes down in the same spot again, dragging a louder moan out of me.

God, what is wrong with me?

Maybe I am a whore. A whore for Hash because only he can get this response out of me.

“That’s two.”

“What’s the second one for?” I ask, not even the least bit ashamed of how breathy I sound.

“Wearing this dress with a thong for another man.”

Hash swings me back over, setting me down on the cool leather seat of his car before slamming the door shut. I’m no better than a man as I watch him saunter around the front of the car to the driver’s side, biting my bottom lip as I take note of the way his dress pants cling to his ass and muscular thighs. He has the sleeves rolled up on his dress shirt and the top three buttons undone, revealing just enough ink to make you wonder if it trails all the way down.

Hash slides into the driver’s seat; his scent of motor oil and cedar mixed with a faint weed smell fills the interior. The engine roars to life, rumbling loudly all around us.

“Where are we going?” I ask.