I turn to him, devouring the vine quickly, the sweetness rushing into my system in one glorious, dizzy wave. The sugar rush hits me, my eyes half lidded, my lips sticky, and a hum of satisfaction escapes before I can catch it.
It’s stupid how good this feels, like a rush of pure adrenaline flushes straight through my veins.
Hi, my name’s Lyric, and I am a sugar addict.
My eyes roll into the back of my head as I sink into my seat, letting out a moan that I can’t for the life of me stop, even if I wanted to. But then I remember, I’m not alone in my truck, gorging on candy. Hallmark is here with me, and I snap my eyes open wide, turning to see him smirking at me with the biggest grin on his face, like he’s thoroughly enjoying the show.
“What?” I snap, then take another mouthful of irresistibly sweet fun.
Chase’s smirk deepens, his gaze fixed on me, but his tone is deeply laced with lust. “Your face right now. I swear if a man made you as happy as that sugar does, he’d know he was doing his job right.”
My cheeks heat immediately while I feel all kinds of embarrassed.
I love sugar.
I know it’s an addiction, but what I didn’t realize was that I look orgasmic while eating it.
I need to be more careful.
He stops, his voice softer. “It’s cute, honestly. Don’t stop eating it on my account.”
I place the plastic bag in the console between us, then turn to start the truck.
“Lost for words?” he teases, but I stay quiet. “Honestly, Lyri, those faces you pullreallyare something I wanna keep seeing.”
I whip my head his way, glaring, but completely flustered. “You really do think you’re God’s gift, don’t you?”
Chase sits back in his chair, assessing me. “God’s gift, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased with himself.
I scoff, turning back to the wheel. “Screw you!” I start the engine, pulling out of the park in a mad rush, kicking up dirt, but suddenly hearing a thud in the rear of the truck.
Crap! Doughnut. Lyri, you idiot!
I grimace as we both turn back to see Doughnut poke his head back up, looking at us, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth like he’s having the ride of his life and enjoying himself.
Baa.
I let out a relieved breath as I slowly back off and drive at a more civilized pace.
The truck fills with an uneasy tension. Where there was sizzling chemistry and not much else before, now it’s coupled with my annoyance at myself because I’m not angry at Chase. Not really. I’m just angrier that this attraction I have for him won’t ease.
Right, I need a distraction.
I lean over, flick the switch for the radio, adjust the station, and watch as he seems to relax a little when an ’80s rock band blares across the speakers. This is where my music tastes lie. My fingers gently tap along on the steering wheel to the heavy beat and husky lyrics, my head bopping to and fro. I don’t even realize I’m dancing in my seat until I hear Chase chuckle to himself.
I glance across at him to see his eyes transfixed on me. “What?” I ask defensively, my eyes flicking between him and the road.
“Nothing.”
I scoff. “It’s obviously something. You don’t laugh for no reason.”
His eyes light up. “I like your taste in music, that’s all.”
My curiosity piques. “You like old-school rock?”
He shifts toward me like he’s gearing up for a real conversation. “Led Zeppelin, Bon Jovi, Guns N’ Roses, Kiss, Black Sabbath, Queen, The Eagles… shit, I could go on and on. I might have been born in the late eighties, not really getting the full advantage of those bands while they were big, but growing up, music was huge in my house. And rock? Rock was what kept me going through my teenage years.”
Maybe we have more in common than I thought.
