Page 15 of Big Dick Energy

Dallas tilted his head, studying me. “That seems unsanitary. Also impractical, but which arm? Because you're going to need at least one to hold your bouquet at the wedding. Unless you're planning to carry it in your teeth.”

I refreshed my Uber app again. A small spinning wheel of doom appeared.

“The offer stands, Davidson.” He gestured toward the car. “You're melting out here. I can literally see your makeup sliding off.”

I glanced down at my reflection in my phone screen. He was right, which made everything so much worse. There was a visible damp patch forming under my arms, and my makeup decided to migrate toward my chin.

The app refreshed. Still no cars available.

I looked at Dallas, contemplating my options. Stay here and slow cook myself from the inside out while I wait for a car, or get in the air-conditioned car with Dallas.

“Fine,” I bit out, each word costing me a piece of my soul.

“Your chariot awaits, my lady. Watch your head.”

“I hate you,” I muttered, stalking past him toward the car. The temperature differential when I entered was so extreme that I nearly wept with relief.

“I know,” he said cheerfully, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

I rolled my eyes, determined to ignore him for the entire ride. Ten miles. Twenty minutes tops. I could handle this, but as Dallas folded his long legs into the backseat, I began to question that assessment.

“I thought you'd sit up front,” I said, my voice ice-cold despite the sweat still cooling on my skin. “You know, with your driver.”

He stretched his arm across the back of the seat, not quite touching me but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. Or maybe that was just my blood pressure spiking. Hard to tell.

“And miss the chance to enjoy your delightful company, Davidson? Never.” His grin was lazy, confident, the smile of a man who'd never been rejected in his life. “Besides, the view's much better back here.”

The car pulled away from the curb, and I pressed myself against the opposite door. Dallas noticed, and his grin sharpened.

“Comfortable?”

“Perfectly.”

“You're practically hanging out the window.”

“Fresh air is good for you.”

“The AC is on. I can adjust it if you'd like.”

“I hate you.”

“You've mentioned that. Twice now in the last three minutes. That’s a new record.” He shifted, and the movement made the space feel even smaller. His thigh was approximately two inches from mine. “So, are you ready for the bachelorette party tomorrow?”

“Stop talking.”

“Oh, come on. We can be friendly. Civil, even. Like diplomats at a peace summit.”

I turned to glare at him. “There is nothing friendly about you, Dodger. You're a fuckboy with good hair and a protein shake addiction.”

His eyebrows rose. “You think I have good hair?”

“That's not… I didn't mean…” I could feel my face heating again, a full-body flush that had nothing to do with the Las Vegas heat. “Your hair is average at best. Mediocre. I've seen better hair on a golden retriever.”

His gaze drifted downward, settling on my mouth. “You're a terrible liar, Davidson.” He reached out, gripping my chin between his thumb and finger, lifting softly and forcing my eyes to meet his. “You chew on your bottom lip when you lie. Did you know that?” He tugged my bottom lip free from my teeth, and I forgot how to breathe. “It's adorable.”

“I am not adorable.” I pulled away from his touch. “And stop calling me Davidson.”

“Stop being so fun to mess with, and I'll consider it.”