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Get a grip. He’s just a man.
Blinking, when I took another good look, I realized I was half right. He reminded me of the reason God made man in the first place, every muscle constructed as if molded from steel. The snug muscle shirt accentuated rippling muscles, his ruddy complexion lightly sun kissed. Given the excessive heat, my filthy mind imagined licking pure vanilla ice cream off his six-pack abs, savoring the way the melted cream trickled down his chest. His jeans were well worn, snug enough there was no doubt about the package between his legs. My imagination worked overtime, filling in the blanks and I was almost embarrassed to admit my mouth was watering. Almost. What intrigued me the most was the way the light stubble covering half his face created such a dangerous persona. With the glow of sun surrounding him, the otherworldliness of him presented a powerful draw.
“Whew,” I whispered, taking several deep breaths. He was definitely the perfect hero. Tall, built, and reeking of danger. However, I was determined not to like him, especially after purposely knocking me down.
As he closed the distance, I concentrated on the thick cords in his neck leading to a strong, angular jaw. By the time he was standing directly in front of me, he still hadn’t removed his sunglasses. When I noticed his scar, the mottled skin jutting down from his right eye, disappearing into the three-day shadow, he pursed his lips. A sore point.
“You could have killed me,” I blurted out. “You did that on purpose.” There was no remaining evidence of the spray of dirt I’d covered his body with.
“But I didn’t.” His tone was husky, sensual, as if he hadn’t slept in several nights, his only libation whiskey. The sound tickled my skin, sliding ever so slowly straight into my explosive core. My pussy throbbed, juice already dampening my panties. I was terrified he could tell how aroused I’d become. No amount of chastising would ease the ache in my nipples or erase the anxiety coursing through me.
Get a grip.
“That’s not the point.” After he didn’t acknowledge me, I huffed. “At least you might be a decent human being.”
“Don’t count on it.”
“Like I said, you did it on purpose.”
The same sneer shifted ever so slowly into the corner of his mouth. “A decent human being wouldn’t do that. Now, would they?”
“You are…” There were several nasty words lingering in my mind, but I couldn’t deny I needed help, even from Mr. Know-it-All.
He glared at me for what felt like a lifetime before bypassing me altogether, placing his huge, rough hands on my car, peering down at the engine. I forced myself to back away by a few feet, realizing that I had no weapon other than the baseball bat in my trunk. He could do anything he wanted to me, and no one would be the wiser. I glanced at his bike, noticing he had two duffle bags attached to the back. He could be a damn drug dealer. The thought sent a single trickle of fear straight down my spine.
The mystery hunk tinkered around for a few minutes then stood back, wiping his hands. “Busted alternator.”
“I could have told you that.”
I’d never known how hard a glare could be through sunglasses until now. He continued studying me for a few seconds then nodded to the bike. “Jump on.”
“What? With you? I don’t think so. Triple A is looking better and better.”
He moved closer until we were only a few inches apart. I did my best to hold my own, but he had to legitimately be at least six foot four, towering over me like a god. My nerves got the better of me and I dragged my tongue across my lips. Damn, the man was hot as Hades. I shifted my gaze to his arms, the creative ink scrolled on both impressive. He certainly didn’t get the tats in some fleabag shop.
“I can just walk,” I added, immediately my little voice screaming inside my head how stupid I sounded.
“It’s several miles to the nearest gas station. Sure, you can walk but given night will be falling soon, beware of the coyotes and snakes. Maybe a few tarantulas.”
“Probably less painful than being with you.”
Stupid girl. Stupid!
When he started to turn around, I dared to touch him on the arm. He stopped moving altogether, lowering his head so slowly I wasn’t certain he had. I curled my fingers, lowering my arm, but the electricity shooting all the way to my toes left me breathless. I’d never had this kind of reaction with anyone.
“That was rude,” I managed. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
The seconds ticked by. What was this, a standoff? “I can’t have any trouble. I’m starting a new life.” Why the hell did I say that to him?
“Yeah, so am I. What kind of trouble you thinking about?”
I had to cover with something. “Like drugs.” I moved quickly, heading toward his bike.
What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?
Ignoring the inner voice and what was left of my rational mind, I did the unthinkable. I messed with his stuff, opening the smaller duffle on top. “Like drugs. You could be a drug dealer,” I called. Then I realized he was standing right behind me, his musky scent so potent it took my breath away.
