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“Ew, gross.”
He sat back and laughed. “You have a problem with a man worshiping you that way?”
“I have a problem with Nicholas Cage comparing my lady bits to a fruit and, frankly, the image of him down there is enough to kill any desire the act would cause.”
She sounded so horrified that he laughed again. Or he started to. The problem with teasing her like this was he was now picturing himself between her thighs. Quinn shifted, trying to get his instant physical reaction under control. His cock wasn’t in a cooperative mood, though, and his brain kept serving up images of Aubry’s back arching, her fingers digging into his forearms, her head thrown back in ecstasy he was giving her.
Jesus Christ.
He let go of her hair like it burned him and straightened. He had to get out of this truck, and fast, before he forgot just how bad of an idea hooking up with the woman was. There was a sign up ahead advertising gas in two miles, which might as well have been a signal from God that he was walking a thin line.
…
Aubry was almost pathetically grateful when Quinn announced they were stopping for snacks and to top off the fuel tank. She didn’t know what to do with a flirting Quinn, even if he was doing it solely to make her uncomfortable. She kept wondering what it would be like to be kissed by him—really kissed—and if he actually had a micro penis or if he was in proportion and gah.
She barely waited for him to put the truck in park before throwing open the door and jumping down to the ground. She was so distracted she made it all the way into the gas station before she realized it was a prime place for some The Hills Have Eyes action. There was a thick layer of dust over everything, and she was pretty sure most of the food had seen its expiration date come and go some twenty-odd years ago. She peered at the clerk out of the corner of her eye, but he was just a pimply teenager like the million pimply teenagers manning gas stations across the country. She made a beeline for the bathroom, all the while berating herself for even walking through the door.
What was Quinn thinking, stopping here? There had to be some place closer to actual civilization where they would be less likely to get killed by a family of cannibal mutants.
Once she was done, she stared at herself in the smudged mirror. You can do this. Just remember that you don’t like Quinn. The only reason you’re even thinking these kinds of thoughts is because your hormones are out of control. It could be anyone causing it. The only reason it’s him is because he’s here and he’s healthy and he’s got all his teeth. It doesn’t mean anything.
The pep talk did nothing to help. Less than nothing, because now she was really thinking of what it would be like to go there with him. The universe had created a cruel joke when it formed Aubry. Her sex drive had always been out of control—a direct parallel to how much she hated people. She’d never had a problem keeping the edge off with her variety of sex toys, mostly because the thought of getting naked and sweaty with anyone in Devil’s Falls didn’t appeal to her in the least.
Or so she would have thought before she’d voluntarily locked herself in a truck cab with Quinn Baldwyn.
A banging on the door had her jumping halfway out of her skin. “Come on, peaches. We need to get back on the road.”
She cursed long and hard, flipping off the door for good measure. None of it cleansed her mind, like she’d hoped. It was official—she might not be able to stand the man, but her hormones didn’t hold the same dislike for him. This is so bad.
Aubry washed her hands again for good measure and used a paper towel to open the door. Quinn stood there, his arms braced on either side of the doorway, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Were you touching yourself and fantasizing about me?”
She’d never tell him. His ego might inflate enough to fill the tiny room and suffocate her. She nudged the door open farther with her foot. It was impossible not to notice how he filled up the doorway—or the way his position pulled his T-shirt tightly against his chest. The man was cut. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I don’t have to. I know the truth, no matter how much you try to deny it.” He leaned down and stage-whispered. “You want me. That’s why you hate me so much—you can’t stand the fact that you’d lose your fucking mind the second you were in my arms.”
