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I step into her space, one hand reaching up behind her and plucking her scrunchie between my thumb and index finger. I pull it out of her hair slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop me or do it herself.
But she doesn't. She holds perfectly still as her long hair tumbles around her shoulders. And then I do something stupid. I look down at her, which would be fine except for the fact that she was already looking up at me. All doe-eyed, rosy lips parted.
That fucking look makes my cock stir in my pants. Which is not what I fucking need to be feeling right now.
“Here, put this on.” I scowl at her, shoving the scrunchie on my wrist in one jarring movement, and lower my helmet over her head. I fiddle with the strap, adjusting it underneath her chin. My fingers brush the line of her jaw, and I hear her sharp intake of breath.
And I guess I need to add that to the growing list of shit that turns me on. What a fucking bullshit list too.
Jean shorts, bright as hell cowboy boots, that doe-eyed look, and her quick inhale.
“This is your helmet?” she asks.
“Aye,” I grunt my response.
“Then what are you going to wear?”
“I'll be fine, we won't be going that fast. Just follow my lead, yeah?” I turn away from her before I do something more befitting my younger brother and take her back to my designated room inside the clubhouse.
“What if I want to go fast though?”
I straddle my bike, blinking several times to clear the image of her long legs wrapped around my waist and her demanding I go faster in an entirely different scenario.
My cock throbs inside my jeans, a painful reminder of how little action he's seen lately. I try to think of bland shit like golf and numbers and deli sandwiches.
But then I feel her hand on my shoulder as she swings her leg over and settles into the small seat behind me.
Oh for fuck's sake.
This was a bad idea. All I can focus on is the way her body feels so fucking perfect behind mine.
“I'm Evangeline, by the way,” she says.
I shake my head a little. I guess Ma is trying her hand at matchmaking now.
29
EVANGELINE
He turnshis head to the left and my mouth brushes against his neck. Tingles spread across my lips like wildfire, and I inhale sharply.
“Silas,” he says, voice low.
“Silas,” I repeat softly. It comes out as a whisper, and I'm almost positive he doesn't hear me.
Which is good. No need to add any more awkwardness to this whole exchange.
My face heats when I think of the way he caught me ogling his bike. I was just so curious, no one seemed to be around, and I'd never really taken the time to look before.
When Dixie told me she'd have someone drive me home while my car stayed here, I kind of expected someone . . . different.
Definitely not this tall drink of water.
Seriously, with the sun behind him, casting long heat waves over everything in its path, he looked like some kind of bad boy god striding across the parking lot to absolutely corrupt me.
And I was absolutely going to let him.
Obviously. I mean, he offered a ride and I barely let him get the words out before I agreed. I almost don't care how eager it makes me.
