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Well, that wasn’t very nice at all. I had never fully appreciated the flat surface of a highway until now.
I pushed up from the ground, blinking at grit that blurred before me as a puff of hot exhaust hit my cheek at far too close quarters. Gravel showered me as the car pulled away. I raised my bound hands over my face in a belated effort to protect myself and sucked in a breath filled with carbon monoxide.
Adding hacking my lungs out on the side of the highway to my list of injuries, I sat absolutely still, taking in my surroundings.
Desert spread to one side of me, a constant stream of cars flowing in the other direction. I patted my jean pockets awkwardly with both hands but came up empty. Had I been dumped in the middle of Death Valley? My stomach turned over at the thought. That was more than a three hour drive back to the game. But the highway had too much traffic to be completely out in the desert. I hoped.
No phone, and no fucking idea where I had been dumped. I hadn’t even had enough sense to memorize the licence plate before my assailants drove away.
A few horns honked, but their drivers didn't slow. I offered them a one-fingered salute behind my back as I worked at the tape wrapped around my ankles, but with bound fingers, all I achieved was to add more bruises to my plight as I brought myself to my knees.
No signs lined the blacktop to tell mewhichdamn highway I knelt on the side of like a Sunday hooker on a Monday morning. The beeping around me increased. I ignored them,sawing uselessly at my wrists. Before I could free myself, an old hatchback pulled up beside me.
Desiccated roadkill and smog assailed me a second time as the car over shot my position.
It came to a stop eventually and reversed with caution. The car pulled up, pointed in the opposite direction to the cars passing me on my side of the highway. The driver must have crossed four lanes of highway traffic to pull across to me.
Did that make the newcomer my friend or my enemy? I clenched my teeth and tried to push up to my feet, but I only succeeded in making a greater ass of myself as I toppled sideways.
The door opened as I righted myself. I clenched my teeth, expected the worst, and waited. What other fuckery headed my way this morning?
A pair of slim, toned legs encased in smooth black pants swung out from the driver’s seat. I blinked. They looked sprayed on from the ankles up. My cock decided now was a good time to function, having not gotten its morning wood out of the way, and reminded me sharply of my desperate urge to pee that I had blessedly forgotten in my rush from my dorm to my current situation.
The fuckers stole me direct from my dorm.
Nothing like being knocked out and stuffed in the back of a car after a pre-dawn run, especially when they had been considerate enough to let me down over a gallon of water in the aftermath of my light workout on game day before kidnapping me.
The need to relieve myself warred with my desire to inflict serious damage on the assholes who had manhandled me, but when the driver stepped out of the car, I forgot everything, even my name.
Until she said it.
“Napoleon Lancaster? The Emperor?”
Hearing my nickname got my attention. I squinted in the brightness, still headachy and adjusting after so long in a cramped space, but I didn’t recognize her.
Dressed in those spray on plastic or leather looking pants, black high heels topped with a blue sweatshirt that gave her a sexy-comfy vibe I instantly liked. Her straightened blonde hair shimmered down her back. She looked like she’d stepped right out of a damn magazine.
As captain of the college ice hockey team I had my fair share of puck bunnies, but this girl blew them all away.
“Yeah?” I managed to croak while my eyeballs bugged from my head.
She stopped a few feet from me, her hands planted on those gorgeous fucking hips with curves that went for miles, her heels shoulder width apart.
I knelt at her feet and worshipped her.
A faint smile played on lush soft pink lips. “Would you like some help? Frat prank gone wrong? I thought you’d be the one pulling a stunt like that.”
“I wish,” I grunted. “And thanks for the vote of confidence. Wait, where do you know me from?”
The smile brightened. “Rippton U. Couldn’t leave one of our precious athletes in distress.” She turned to display an Ice Phoenix printed across the back of her sweatshirt. The team slogan,Reborn, Rise, Conquerslashed across its extended wings in bold print. The entire image was wreathed in icy blue flame. She looked at me over her shoulder, and I realized her ice blue gaze matched the phoenix.
“That’s stunning.” Was I talking about her or the sweatshirt? “I don’t remember anything that amazing coming from merchandising.” I should know, I had a closet full of the stuffthat got sent out to us whenever they added new items to the list. Which seemed to be every second month.
“Thanks. My roommate designed it. She’s a digital game design major but she does logos and all sorts of amazing stuff.”
“She’s got talent. What’s your name?”
“Wrenlee Cheshire. Like the fucking cat. No jokes,” she warned as my eyes lit up.
