"So call an Uber."
"I could." He pushed off from the truck and closed the distance between us, and I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower, tracking down my body like he was checking for damage. "How's your hip?"
"I’ve had worse."
His thumb traced a slow circle through my jacket, pressing just hard enough to make me wince. "You let him hit you four times."
"I didn'tlethim do anything."
"You kept going back out." His eyes came back to mine. "Like you wanted him to."
Behind me, the arena door opened. The sound of voices and laughter spilled out into the parking lot, and I flinched.
Joel didn't move, didn't even glance toward the sound.
"Someone's going to see," I said.
"Then we should go."
I unlocked the truck and got in. My hands were still shaking when I shoved the key in the ignition.
Joel slid into the passenger seat and closed the door, and suddenly the cab was half its normal size. He smelled like cold air and something else, soap or shampoo, something clean that didn't belong in my truck with its fast food wrappers and empty coffee cups and the faint permanent smell of hockey gear.
He didn't tell me where to go, and I didn't ask.
I just pulled out of the lot and turned onto the main road, heading away from the arena, away from the lights, away from anyone who might see us together. My hands were tight on the wheel. Every few seconds I glanced over at him, trying to read something in his profile, but he was just staring out the windshield like we were on a normal drive to a normal place and he hadn't just shown up at my truck looking at me like he wanted to eat me alive.
I turned onto a smaller road, then a smaller one, heading toward the empty stretch of scrubland east of town where there was nothing but dirt and sagebrush and the occasional coyote.
"Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?"
I startled so hard I nearly swerved. "What?"
"Secluded location, no witnesses." Joel's voice was dry, his eyes still on the road ahead.
"I'm not going to kill you."
"That's exactly what someone who was going to kill me would say."
"You asked me for a ride. You didn't tell me where."
Joel turned to look at me. The moonlight coming through the windshield caught the angles of his face, turning his eyes into something I couldn't read.
He didn't answer. His hand landed on my knee instead.
I kept driving. My knuckles went white on the wheel.
His hand slid higher, his fingers pressing into the inside of my thigh through my jeans. I stared straight ahead at the empty road and tried to remember how breathing worked.
"Joel."
"Mm." His hand moved higher still. His thumb traced the inseam of my jeans, following the stitching up, and then his palm pressed flat against my cock.
I pulled off onto the shoulder so fast the tires kicked up gravel and the truck fishtailed before I got it stopped. The engine wasstill running, headlights cutting through the dark, and I turned to look at him.
Joel leaned over and kissed like he'd already decided what he wanted and was done waiting for me to catch up. His hand fisted in my hair and pulled my head back, and I opened my mouth for him.
I grabbed his jacket to pull him closer. Joel made a frustrated sound against my mouth and then he was climbing over the console, all sharp elbows and long limbs, until he was in my lap with his knees bracketing my thighs.
