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“Did you want to take the motorcycle?” he asks, eyeing the dirt bike.
“Euhh, yes?” I don’t sound too convincing judging by his grin.
Both of us stay put.
“Probably should take the car, right?” he asks, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“I’m not getting on your death trap,” I tell him.
“Death trap?” he asks, the corner of his mouth hiking up.
“Your bike is daunting.” I grin. I want to add like you, but I don’t.
“Scared, Shorty?” A lopsided grin warms his face.
“That would be a yes,” I mutter, not knowing if I’m talking about the bike, or him.
He runs a tattooed hand through his hair, his biceps flexing. “Too bad. It’s like an explosion between your legs,” he says, with a cocky grin.
A giggle escapes my lips, and I try to keep a straight face. Damn he’s funny without even trying. My eyes travel to his crotch. I quickly glance up when he chuckles.
“Don’t blame me, someone said it on TV. Couldn’t resist repeating it in real life.”
I shake my head. “Explosion or not, let’s take the car.”
“I promise you, one day you’ll want to ride it again,” he drawls.
“What?” My cheeks are probably the shade of a tomato.
He laughs. “The dirt bike. You did ride one when you were a kid, right?” He taps the seat with the palm of his hand.
“I did once or twice.” Heat pools between my legs as his lazy hooded eyes lock on mine, and I take a deep, shuddering breath when he scratches his stubble. What would his two-day growth feel like on my skin if he went down on me?
I sigh. I should quit daydreaming about his eyes, and his abs, definitely his mouth.
He cocks his head to the side, his eyes boring right through mine, like he knows what I’m thinking. It scares the shit out of me. His tongue slides out over his lower lip, stopping before his piercing. I can feel my nipples peak in response. Sneaky bastards.
“Come on,” he commands, his voice dark and hoarser than normal.
I nod. It’s the only thing I can apparently do. Letting him lead the way, taking in his broad shoulders, the way his muscles flex as he walks to the car, makes me want to touch him.
And I don’t know if this friends’ thing is ever going to work.
Hunter
“You good?”
She bites on her bottom lip, straightening her spine, red creeping up her neck. I quickly focus on my Vans when she notices me checking her out. Shit.
“I am.”
“Umm, l-let me open the truck,” I stutter, opening the door for her and slamming it right into my knee. “Damn it fu…”
She turns her head away but I hear her chuckle anyway.
“You okay?” she asks, and I can still pick up on the smile in her voice.
“Yep.” I stumble to the driver’s side.
