“Taxis exist. And this is my preferred mode of transportation and will be until the wheels fall off,” he grins.
“Oh, so any day now?” I say as I look pointedly at the rusted wheel spokes.
He snickers. “You’re funny.”
“I’m not trying to be.” I roll my eyes. “I guess we’re taking my car.” I open my purse to fish for the keys. “But you’re still driving.” I toss them to him.
He opens passenger door. “Your carriage, Queen.” He takes my hand and guides me in and tucks my dangling purse strap in before he closes it.
I have to bite my lip to stop the stupid smile forming. He’s probably just doing what his mom raised him to.
“Thank you.”
“Yup,” he closes the door and runs around the front of the car, and I admire the way his clothes hint at the muscular frame beneath them but still leave something to the imagination. And I love that I don’t have to use my imagination. I didn’t get to see it all that night, but I felt it all.
He presses the ignition key to start the car and I press my thighs together. The car illuminates and my audiobook starts playing.
“I gasp at the hot rasp of his tongue twirling around my nipple.”
“Oh my God,” I screech and press the button to pause it. “Sorry.” I grin sheepishly and switch to FM.
“Whatwasthat?” He sounds scandalized, and I laugh.
“It was an audiobook.”
“About what? Sucking nipples?” He snorts.
That wipes the smile off my face. I know that I can be irrationally irritable when people give me unsolicited, uninformed opinions on the books I read. “No, it’s a romance novel.”
He lets out a low whistle. “Wow, I didn’t figure you for that type.”
I bristle “And what type isthat?”
“You know, to read fluff.” He’s making a tight right turn into the grocery store parking but takes a quick glance at me.
“Wait, did I say something wrong?” he asks and pulls into a parking spot.
“Have you ever read a romance novel?” I cross my arms and lean back against my door.
He looks taken aback by the question. “No.” He draws the word out and puts the car in park.
“Then what makes you think you know the type of person who reads it?”
“Well, I mean…I don’t know. I just…you’re a journalist. I figured you’d read history or politics.”
“I do…and they’ve taught me a lot of about the world. But I’ve been reading romance since I was twelve years old, and those books have taught me more about humanity than any textbook could. Yes, it’s something I do for pleasure, but so is eating. So is fucking. That doesn’t make them any less impactful. Why should reading be any different?”
“Sin, wait. I—”
“When the world is shit, I can open my book and escape. As a genre, it’s got some of the best writers in all of fiction. I don’t have to choose. I get to be entertained, educated, enlightened, and embraced. And if you want to have any peace in my presence, you better put some respect on it.”
He holds his hands up palms facing me. “Okay, I’m sorry. I spoke out of ignorance.”
“Fine,” I grumble. I’m glad he apologized quickly, but I’m still miffed. “You’re lucky we didn’t have this conversation the night we met.”
He barks a surprised laugh. “Noted. Sin doesn’t play about romance.”
“It never lets me down.” I wink. “I’ll be right back.” I smile, open my own door and climb out.
