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Rocco’s sullen look doesn’t last, though, and it’s not long before we’re both commenting on how the old ride we just ditched was way more comfortable.
“And less smelly,” I echo back to him once we both agree we’ve been short-changed.
“At least it has plenty of gas, and we don’t stand out like we did a minute ago,” Rocco assures me, and I ask him again.
About how much longer we have to play hide and seek from somebody who’s probably not even following us.
“I hate mentioning it, but I can see what this is doing to you, Rocco. And I feel like it’s all because of me,” I tell him.
Not wanting to make it all about me, but I know he could travel faster and lighter without me.
God forbid he ever would, though.
He doesn’t answer straight away. Instead, his face becomes unreadable.
Infuriating me, but at the same time driving me wild with desire for him again.
He’s just so damned perfect.
Sultry, dark. And then smiling like sunshine before he’s all serious again.
I love him, though, no doubt about that.
“It is all because of you, Jasmine,” he finally says, sounding impatient but not blaming me.
I open my mouth, but no words come out.
Rocco spells it out again for me without taking his hands off the wheel or his eyes off the road.
“The minute I saw you, I wanted you, alright? And with the mix-up of who’s who and you being grabbed, I saw my perfect chance.”
I crease my mouth at being reminded again.
If it was anyone else, I’d say, ‘Aww, how sweet.’
But because it’s me, I have this hard-wired response that I’m somehow no good, that a guy like Rocco is way out of my league.
“I know going south sounds stupid. It does to me as well. But it’s the only place I know people who can maybe help us. Help us get away for good. So I can show you the life you deserve,” he adds.
Looking frustrated, he has so many barriers up against something that feels so natural.
I never mentioned I thought going south was stupid but I feel a smile playing at the side of my lips, thinking about how we do think along the same lines.
“We don’t have to argue about it,” I say soothingly, diffusing any tension with a simple movement of my hand placed on a certain part of his lap.
His lip twitches, finally smiling and pressing his hand over mine.
“I’m not arguing,” Rocco replies firmly.
“I don’t think I could win an argument with you anyway,” he finally chuckles before taking a sharp breath.
My hand is right where he wants it, and we haven’t even stopped for breakfast yet, let alone had time for me to think about anything like that so soon after last night.
“How far south do you wanna go?” I coo, surprising myself with just how forward I’m feeling.
I don’t even mind if I sound desperate to Rocco because come to think of it, I am desperate for him.
Likeall the timenow, every second of every minute is charged with just wanting more of him.
