“See you in a few,” I said as I got to the women’s door.
“Lily,” Lucas said, and I turned to him. “Don’t take too long. I can’t wait to…have pizza.” His hungry glance up and down my body told me he was going to be having much more than pizza this evening.
“I can’t wait, either,” I said as I ducked into the door.
I’d never said truer words.
Chapter8
“Is this your car?”I asked as we drove away from campus.
“No, it’s Stick’s. He’s letting me borrow it for a while.”
It was similar to the one we’d ridden in Thursday night—older, but restored with loving care—but this one was a shiny deep blue instead of candy-apple red.
“Is this a…what did Stick say the other night? A Charger?”
He shook his head, a smile on his face at my lack of car knowledge. “No. This is a 1972 Chevy Camaro. Vastly different.”
It didn’t look that different to me, other than the color. “How does Stick own so many cars? What does he do?”
Lucas took a quick look in the rearview mirror into the back seat at Andy, who was looking out the window, seemingly oblivious to Lucas and me.
“Stick is…self-employed,” Lucas said to me in a tone that said I’d be smarter to just leave it at that. Which I did.
“Does he fix these cars up himself?”
Lucas nodded. “He’s been a car nut for as long as I can remember. We’d be on the street playing ball, and Stick would be there, but instead of playing ball, he’d have his head under the hood of a car.”
“Playing ball. Something you were pretty good at, right?”
He glanced over at me. “Yeah, I was pretty good. For about a minute.”
“Then you got hurt,” I said. It wasn’t a question. I wanted him to know I knew a little bit about him, even though there wasn’t much to know—at least not online.
He looked in the rearview again as we came to a red light. A smile, so sweet and unplanned, crossed his face. I turned to see what had made Lucas smile. Andy’s little strawberry-blond head was lolling against the car window, his seatbelt the only thing holding him upright. His eyes were drooping past half-mast, then flickering, in a valiant effort to try to stay awake. An effort he’d soon lose.
Lucas returned his attention to me—to my statement about him playing ball. He ran a hand across the back of his neck, under his shiny, wet black hair. He eased the car forward when the light turned green, careful not to roar like Stick had, so as not to wake Andy.
“Yeah, I guess it’s time for that talk, isn’t it?” he said, resignation in his voice.
I so didn’t want to be something Lucas resigned himself to. “What talk?” I asked, though I thought I knew what he meant.
“The Life and Times of Lucas Kade,” he said, a trace of bitterness creeping through in his voice. “Or, how an A-1 college recruit and NFL hopeful ended up tiling steam rooms in his shithole hometown.”
Definite bitterness now.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I said, though I was dying to hear his story. Dying to know everything I could about the man whose hands made my body sing with tension and arousal.
And yes, made my pulse beat faster and my heart clench when he looked at me with those piercing brown eyes.
“No, I’ll tell you. It’s only fair. Because Lily,” he said, his voice dropping to a low and throaty—and oh-so-sexy—whisper. “I want to know everything about you. I want to hear every story. Touch every part of you.” He looked at me then, and my blood raced through my veins at his promise. “And taste every inch of your body.”
My breathing became heavy, my chest lifted and tightened. Lucas noticed, and when his eyes lifted to my face, I licked my lips and gave him a slight nod.
We both knew what I was agreeing to.
* * *
