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He closes her door, slapping the roof of her small SUV, the last vehicle she bought with her discount. He steps out of her way so she can pull out of the spot, but he’s standing right in front of my truck so I can’t move. He watches her pull out and then turns, and I feel like a deer caught in the headlights, but his eyes aren’t bright. No, they’re dark and full of filthy promises.
He runs his hand across the hood the way I want it to run over my skin as he comes to my window, and I roll it down. “What?” I bite out.
He shrugs casually. “Just wanted to say goodnight, Erica.”
“No one calls me that.” I’m continuing with the bitch-fest, apparently.
That cocky grin is full of so much arrogance, I’m surprised he can even stand upright from the weight of his ego. “No one but me.”
I saw a video once where a kid was putting rubber bands around a watermelon, one after another, getting tight as a belt around the melon’s middle until it burst in a rain of red guts and juice. I can feel those rubber bands surrounding us, pushing us together as it gets tighter and tighter, on the edge of . . . something. A kiss, maybe?
We were close earlier. But I can’t—won’t—do that to Emily.
“’Bye, Cowboy.”
He touches the brim of his filthy ballcap. “Goodnight, Lil Bit.”
I can’t help but watch him swagger across the row to Bessie. In the light of my headlights, I can trace the wide breadth of his shoulders, the taper down to his waist, the full roundness of his ass in those dirty work jeans, and his long, thick legs. I’ll give him this—he looks good coming, but damn, does he look even better going when you can’t see that knowing spark in his eyes.
He climbs in the truck, slamming the door with a finality that irritates me for some reason. The window being down is the only reason I hear the click-click-click when he tries to start Bessie.
“Sonofabitch!” I hear him spit out. His window must be down too.
I sigh to myself, looking up at the headliner of my truck and beyond. “You testing me? Because this is so not right.” Still, I get out and trace his steps across the parking lot. I lean against his door with my hip, not able to reach the window frame with my forearm like he did, and cross my arms casually.
Not a care in the world, see? Everything’s fine, just fucking peachy.
Except it’s not.
Because it’s just the two of us in this dark lot now, and though my brain is screaming that he’s off limits, my body doesn’t give a shit. It just wants his, and heat pools low in my belly.
He turns his head to glare at me, but I’m well aware that he watched every step of my approach in the side mirror. Those eyes promise punishment . . . to Bessie? To me? I’m not sure which.
“Pop the hood. I’ll take a look.”
He reaches down, pulling the lever with a pop, and I push off the truck to walk to the front. After releasing the safety latch, I climb up on the bumper, balancing on my toes to lift the hood into place. A quick check tells me it’s probably the battery.
I glance back before I jump down and see Brody right in my landing zone. His eyes are locked on me, tracing along my skin. I can feel it now, from my boots, up the bare backs of my thighs, to my nonexistent ass that’s sticking out as I bend over the truck to work. I can’t decide whether I’m glad I changed from my coveralls into cutoff shorts and a T-shirt for this little forced outing or wishing I had them back on to hide my skin from the heat of his gaze.
He’s not the least bit embarrassed to be caught looking and boldly looks more, daring me to call him out on it.
He reaches for me, big hands wrapping around my waist before I can string together a sentence to refuse. He lifts me off the truck like I weigh nothing, lowering me toward the ground. But he takes his time, letting every inch of me rub along the hard planes of his body. Through the layers of clothes, I feel the tightness of his abs, the bite of his belt buckle against my body, and the bulge beneath it. His hands tighten incrementally as my toes hit terra firma, not letting me go. I’m a little unsteady myself and lean against him, though I’d never admit that. Not even in a court of law under oath. Nope, I don’t recall it that way, Your Honor.
“I’ll have to jump you off . . .” Why has that never sounded so damn sexual before? I rush to finish my thought. “And you can follow me back to the shop. I can drop a new battery under Bessie’s hood in a few minutes and have you on your way.”
