Page 2 of Crashing into Love


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“Then I’ll go on with my life,” I say. “I’m not the one talking about finding a woman and settling down all the time. You are.”

I turn the car onto the street that will lead to the hospital at the end of it. It’s a quiet road that cuts through a residential neighborhood, with byroads snaking off to the side.

“I know, I know.” Dad sighs. “I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to agitate you before work.”

“It’s fine, Dad. Honestly. I know you only want the best for me. But I’m forty-three. I can take care of myself.”

“Nobody would ever question that, Conrad. Ever. I just wish you could feel what I felt, have what I had with your mother. Love like that…”

“I know,” I say, softening my tone. “I get it, Dad. It sucks what happened to her. That’s why I work my ass off in the—”

Suddenly a car rams into my tail from the side, pulling out of a side road and clipping me.

I roar and grab the wheel, righting it, my senses suddenly becoming cold and focused the way they do when I’m standing over the operating table.

I regain control and bring the car to a slow, controlled stop at the side of the road.

And then the anger comes, burning up inside of me, scorching my insides as I think about how fucking stupid this driver must be. I wasn’t going over the speed limit. I was just going in a straight line, down the quiet road, and this asshole decided to speed out of nowhere and slam right into me.

“Son, son,” Dad yells. “Are you okay?”

“Somebody just crashed into me,” I tell him.

“Oh, God. Are you hurt?”

“No, no. They hit the back. Stupid motherfucker. They came out of nowhere. Listen, I’ve gotta go. I need to sort out the insurance before I start work. Fuck. I don’t even want to step out there, Dad. I bet the car’s a mess.”

“You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, I get that. But this car costs more than some houses.”

“I guess I was wrong about you not caring about material possession, huh?”

My laugh is dry, without humor. “Yeah, I guess so. I only got it a week ago. Fucking hell. I’ve gotta go. Sleep tight, Dad.”

“Speak soon. Let me know what happens. And Conrad?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to kill them, okay?”

I chuckle as I replay the accident in my head, the way the car just shot out of nowhere, slammed into me without warning.

What if I’d been a couple of seconds sooner? They might’ve crashed into the driver’s side door, injuring me.

“I can’t promise that,” I snarl, ending the call.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, I get ready to size this asshole up. Whoever he is, he’s going to be sorry he chose my brand new BMW to slam into.

The air rushes out of my lungs when I see her, my gaze flitting up and down her body, my heart pounding in my chest like it’s trying to break free.

The car’s a hunk of shit, a rust bucket with chipped paint.

But the woman is an angel, my heart picking up speed for a wholly different reason. She’s short and curvy, with long oak colored hair spilling down to her shoulders, her shirt, and jeans doing nothing to hide the gorgeous voluptuousness of her body.

But it’s her face that draws me in, green eyes glittering like little twin fires, the way her lips twist as she turns to me, saying something I can’t hear.

I think it’s sorry.

But she doesn’t have to be sorry. She doesn’t have to be scared.

Fuck.

Is this it, the moment I’ve been waiting for, the moment I never truly thought would come?

All I can think about is leaping from the car and tearing her clothes off, bending her over the hood and ripping her pants down, exposing her round luscious ass and massaging it, pushing her legs together so her perfect flesh dances for me.

A few cars pass us by, skirting around us, one of them honking their horn.

I crack my window, warning myself to be careful, to not let these savage feelings come across in my words.

What the hell would she say, this stranger, if I told her about the animal rioting inside of me?

What would she say if I told her I’m going to claim her, own her, possess her forever?

The thought of another man touching her sends rage shooting through me. I can’t let that happen, ever.

She belongs to me.

“Can you move your car?” I say, just about keeping my voice steady.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay. Get it out of the traffic and then we’ll talk.”

She bites her lip and nods. She looks so damn nervous, so sassy, a mixture that should be impossible but somehow isn’t on her gorgeous face.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll do that. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

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