“You wish,” I give him a dirty look, while my stomach swoops at the same time.
I practically feel the burn of his eyes as they do a slow sweep of my body. Clearing my throat, I try to think of something to change the subject, but don’t trust my voice.
Instead, I take the turn off the interstate and act like I’m concentrating on my driving, even though there are hardly any other cars to be concerned about.
The next time he speaks I almost jump out of my skin, and he doesn’t disguise his amusement as he gives me directions. It’s past my apartment, on the other side of town which I consider bringing up to show him how much I’m going out of my way, but I keep quiet.
We’ve come this far, I can’t complain now, except my bladder is starting to protest. I might not have drank much at Waverley’s, but haven’t used the bathroom all night.
I have a sudden thought that I might be taking him to a woman’s place. He said it was a ‘buddy,’ and he has business here but that doesn’t mean he didn’t lie.
Mace is exceptionally hot with the most beautiful green eyes I’ve seen on a real-life person. The thick, wavy blond hair makes him look more like a cover model than a biker. He roughs it up with that unruly style and few days growth of stubble, the old, dusty boots and his cut.
Stop fantasizing about another sexy biker. In a rare moment of self-reflection and brutal honestly, I admit, it’s bad enough I do it for one, never mind two.
“This friend of yours, is he a brother?”
He’s quiet long enough I almost, almost give in and check his reaction. “No,” he answers.
I bite my cheek so hard I’m going to end up gnawing through it. I guess our friendly, somewhat veiled flirty interaction is over.
He doesn’t say anymore so I don’t ask. Not even when we turn onto the street with a row of eight houses. It’s the kind of place that has aHomeowners Association. All the lawns are manicured, the cars in the driveways look expensive. It dead ends at a wooded area.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“What?” I glance at Mace.
He waves his hand towards my thighs. “You’ve been squirming for the last five miles. I’m asking if there is something wrong.”
As if I am going to tell him I need the bathroom so bad, I may have to pull over as soon as he’s gone and find a decent enough bush.
“I’m fine. Which one of these Pleasantville homes belongs to your friend?”
“Last one on the right.”
Steering towards the house, I swing onto the empty driveway and press the brakes, not turning off the engine because I need to get out of here asap.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“No problem.”
“How far away is your place from here?”
“Why?” I turn to look at him and he arches a brow. I’m not giving this guy my address.
“Come on.” He gets out of the car without a word.
Come on, what? I need to go. The situation is getting desperate. I’m about to tell him to shut the damn door so I can leave when he leans back in, one elbow on the roof. His shirt lifts, showing the tanned, very toned planes of his stomach.
“Could you close the door?”
“Cassie, get out of the car and come inside.”
“No. Close the door.”
“It will take you five minutes to come in and use the bathroom. Or would you prefer to use the bushes behind the house?”
My expression must show what I’m thinking. Like,‘how the fuck did he know that?’
