Weston laughed. “Your assumption this time is correct.”
He slowed down and pulled out his key fob to unlock a truck not too far away. We paused in front of a bulky red Ford pickup.
“Interesting,” I said as he opened the passenger door for me.
“Is it now?” He looked amused and didn’t move back when I stepped close to climb in. My shoulder brushed against his hard chest and his hand held onto my elbow as I stepped up.
“I took you for more of a sleek sports car guy,” I told him. “You know, a two-seater kind of ride.”
“Oh, really?” He waited until my seatbelt clicked in place before shutting the door. Once he climbed in on the driver’s side he said, “So, in your head, I’m a hotshot quarterback with a hotshot car to match. What other surface-level assumptions are you carrying around in that beautiful mind?”
I glanced at him. “Just trying to figure you out. I didn’t offend you, did I?”
Weston shook his head as he put the truck in reverse. He pulled out the parking lot at a blaring speed that made a few cars honk at him. I laughed with nerves filling my stomach and held onto the door as if I’d be able to make a quick exit.
“I don’t think you’re capable of offending me,” he said as he quickly changed lanes without putting on his indicator.
“Holy crap,” I mumbled, squeezing my eyes shut.
“What?” He sounded concerned. I could feel the car slowing down. “You okay?”
“Totally,” I lied while tightening my grip on the car’s grab handle. “I just get carsick.”
“Isn’t it supposed to help when you sit up front?”
“Yeah, sometimes.”When the driver isn’t driving like he’s running from the law.
“We’re not too far,” he comforted. “Just a few blocks.”
I let out a breath, trying to think of anything other than getting in an accident.
“You want to know an assumption I have of you?” Weston asked. He was trying to distract me.
I dared to crack open one eye to peer at him. “Sure.”
“You are way more dangerous than you look,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means…” Weston made a sharp turn into the parking garage. I let out an expletive and immediately apologized. He laughed at my politeness.
“We’re a far better match than I originally expected,” he finished.
Our apartment’stemperature was set to a comfortable seventy-four when I walked through the doors.
“We’re alone,” I told Weston, who trailed in behind me. “Are you… thirsty? Or hungry?”
It felt weird to just take him to my room without offering so much as a glass of water. If a guy offered to give you head, then the least you could do was offer him something to drink.
Weston shook his head with the sort of chill I could only dream of possessing. “I’m alright.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Are you good?” He was searching my face for some sign I would back out again.
I gave him a small smile. “I think so.”
“Slow,” he reminded me as he stepped closer. My breath caught in my throat. “Or fast. Your choice.”
