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Throwing a thumb over her shoulder, she says, “I am, but I’m going into the back room to say goodbye to one of myfriends.” She glances at Cici and her group, all huddled close and watching us warily. “Doesn’t look like they’ll give me trouble again. At least for tonight, anyway.”
Funny how just seconds ago, I was okay with walking away from her, but as she turns to leave, I reach out and stop her again. I tell myself not to say the words, but they come out, anyway. “If you’re leaving, I’ll give you a ride.”
“I don’t want to impose—”
“You live next door to me. It’s not an imposition.”
She chews on her lip again, and it makes me want to lick her. “It’s a nice offer and all, but we really don’t know each other—”
Utterly ridiculous.
I bend down to put my lips near her ear. “After what I did to you yesterday against that tree you’re not chopping down, I’d say we know each other well enough.”
I didn’t know that blushing could be a beauty feature, but the red tint to her cheeks and the tiny gust of air she blows out of her mouth at my reminder is sexy as fuck. She’s so discombobulated, she can’t even argue with me about the tree.
Nodding toward the back room, I say, “Go say goodbye to your friend. I’m parked a few blocks down, so I’ll pull up in front for you.”
She stares at me a long moment, and I think she might say no. I’m already figuring out an argument around it, but she nods. “Okay, then.”
My gut twists slightly, and I’m not sure if it’s relief she accepted my offer or fear that she accepted my offer. I don’t want to be around her, but I do want to be around her.
I might be going fucking crazy, but based on the shit storm of my life lately, this doesn’t seem all that insane.
By the time I get my truck and pull up in front of Masha’s, Tilden is standing out front. The way her pretty dress wraps around her curves definitely caught my attention in the bar.
She sees my truck and reaches for the handle before I even make a full stop. She lets herself in rather than waiting for me to get out and open the door for her.
Not that I would have done that, but it’s relieving to see she doesn’t expect it. After what we shared yesterday, I don’t know what she might assume.
Once she’s in the truck and belted in, I take off for the under-ten-minute drive to our side of the mountain. I try to avoid looking at her legs that are slightly exposed when the hem of her dress rides up.
It’s quiet, and the silence is both awkward and acceptable. I’m just being a nice guy—odd, yes, I know—by offering her a ride home. We can put aside our differences for at least ten minutes.
Took way less than ten minutes to make her come yesterday.
I grit my teeth for letting those thoughts permeate my brain. I’ve got to quit thinking about it, but truth is, I’d kill for a taste of her again.
We’re no more than a mile from her driveway when she breaks the silence, and it causes my skin to prickle. “Why did you do that to me?”
It’s not good to take my eyes off the dark, winding roads, but I shoot her a quick glance. She’s turned in her seat to face me, and the dashboard illumination makes her eyes look slightly haunted by the question.
Or maybe it’s the possible answer that has her worried.
I don’t even think to lie and give it to her as plain as could be. “Because I wanted to.”
“But why?” she presses.
I glance at her again before I have to give my attention to her property looming ahead. I flick my blinker on. “Why does any guy want in a girl’s pants?”
“You’re not any guy,” she points out as I hang a left into her driveway. “You’re famous. A professional athlete. I’m nothing special. On top of that, you hate me. So it stands to reason you had a very defined and probably calculated plot, and I’m wondering if it’s because you think it gives you control over me. I want to assure you, it does not.”
I slow the truck to a stop and put it in park. Every bit of her little speech was adorable, except when she said she’s nothing special.
I mean… she’s something, but I don’t know what.
The old Coen, the one who loitered aimlessly in the time between the plane crash and me putting my tongue on her pussy, would have said something crass to knock her down.
For the life of me, I can’t find it within to be an asshole right now. I merely say, “It wasn’t calculated. It was lust, and that can’t be calculated.”
