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“Are you warm enough?” Blasting the heater in her face probably wasn’t my brightest idea, but I didn’t know what to do. I had zero experience with the fucked-up workings of the female body. I only knew about the fun parts.
Already, I had forced my hoodie over her head and shoved tablets down her throat in my pathetic attempt to help. I wanted to make her better. I wanted to make it right. In whatever way she needed me to do it. I just didn’t know how.
Whatever she needed from me, I was more than willing to provide.
That was a sobering thought.
Jesus Christ, I’d opened myself up to danger with this girl.
“I’m okay,” Shannon replied as she settled into the passenger seat of my car.
She pulled her long brown hair out from the collar of my hoodie and draped it over her shoulder.
“Thanks again,” she added shyly. “I promise I’ll give this one back to you.”
“No problem.” Clenching my jaw, I forced myself to keep my eyes on the road and not on the way her skirt was hidden beneath the hem of my hoodie and how high said hoodie rode up her bare thighs when she was sitting. “Keep it.”
“Sorry?”
“The hoodie.” Clearing my throat, I tightened my hand on the wheel to keep myself from doing something reckless. “Hang on to it.”
“Why?”
I could feel her blue eyes on me—I knew that sounded thick, but I could—and the sensation caused my arms to break out in goose bumps.
I shrugged. “Because it looks good on you.”
Johnny, you bleeding eejit!
“Are you feeling better?” I hurried to ask—and distract her. “Did the ibuprofen help?”
I glanced over at her and bit back a groan. She was so fucking beautiful it was painful, with those big blue eyes staring back at me all innocent and full of uncertainty. I didn’t need the temptation that came with being this close to her. Problem was, every time she ran, I found myself chasing right after her, desperate to just be with her.
“I’m okay, Johnny,” she replied in a small voice. “You’ve helped me.” She smiled shyly. “Again.”
I snapped my gaze back on the road and fought to get my body under control. “It’s no problem.” I had no idea what this girl was doing to me, but I was burning the hell up. “Anytime.”
“I like your music,” Shannon said then, giving me a welcome distraction from my wayward thoughts. “You have good taste.”
“Go on,” I encouraged when her fingers fluttered toward the stereo. Reaching over, I snatched my iPod, which was attached to my stereo, off the dashboard and handed it to her. “Find something you like.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, voice small and uncertain.
I nodded and smiled, trying to reassure her.
It must have worked because she whispered, “I love them all,” as she began to flick through track after track. “You have amazing taste.”
“Thanks.” I shifted uncomfortably, feeling a weird tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach. “I like good music.”
Spending countless hours working out alone gave me the opportunity to broaden my taste.
“Me too,” she agreed. “And your music is epic.”
It wasn’t that I wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of compliments. It was just that they usually revolved around rugby. Shannon clearly wasn’t impressed or fazed by my role. It was both a relief and a worry.
I didn’t know how to handle that. She was confusing the shite out of me.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Beatles fan,” Shannon mused, stopping on an old number. “‘Here Comes the Sun’?” she questioned, brow arched. “You like this one?”
