“I tried to stop. And it wasn’t intentional.” Even to me, I sound unsure of myself. Which I’m not. I have confidence in spades, and have been told on more than a few occasions that I’m obnoxiously loud. Although, it has been a day.
And the reminder of what kind of day I’ve had has me suddenly shaking my wet hair, brushing a soggy clump of it over one side of my face.
The look in his eyes hardens, because he doesn’t miss both my small dip of confidence, or what I’m trying to do.
He growls before the words pour out of him, harder and faster than the pelting rain. “Never said you did it on purpose. But you can’t stop in the middle of the fucking road because some shit for brains squirrel ran out in front of you.”
I go to defend myself, but before I can, he’s up in my face, his huge hand wrapping under my chin to tilt my face up to his. “And don’t you think I missed that black eye, killer. Who the fuck touched you?”
Before I can say a word, his attention flies behind me and it’s like an action movie watching the way he swoops towards me. In my next breath, I’m swept off my feet and hoisted onto his shoulder, his hand is clamping my ass to keep me from falling off.
I’m not one hundred percent sure what’s going on, but I’m also ridiculously happy where I am. He doesn’t stop running until we’re off the side of the road, but once we are, he turns so the both of us can watch as a car comes tearing down the roadway too fast. So fast instead of taking the corner it aquaplanes over the road heading right for us.
Seriously, I squeeze my eyes shut waiting for the moment of impact, that’s how close we come to getting hit. At the last minute, like the last inch the car skids to a messy, loud stop in front of us.
I get dropped to my feet and rearranged behind him, left with a rumbled warning to stay where I am before he stands in front of me protectively. That feeling only intensifies when the driver who nearly fucking killed us starts screaming his head off.
Being hidden behind a wall of delectable, bourbon smelling Alpha means I don’t see what actually happens. And it’s hard to make out the exact words the driver keeps yelling over the rain and the increasing growls of the Alpha. It is not hard to miss how pissed off the dude is.
The Alpha in front of me barks something back instantly, shutting down the driver. I miss what my saviour says when a door opens, but before a word is said by the man standing in front of me, the driver starts spluttering out an overly verbose and dramatic apology. Barely a beat later the door slams again, the car restarts, and the driver floors the accelerator. Of course, because of the road conditions, the wheels spin, the car whines as it fishtails and nearly slides out.
“What did you do?” I ask, curious on how he got the driver to change his tone so dramatically and quickly.
“You want to take your hands off me?” he asks, ignoring my question and twisting around to look at me. His brown eyes are again a different shade, probably because they are black and dilated while his jaw is back to being hard.
Shrugging as opposed to answering, I drag my nails over his chest. Slowly, because it feels so nice. The more he scents up, the harder he pushes against my hand, the longer it takes me to reach to the other side of his body. Sadly, another flash of lights puts a stop to my fun.
I pull my hand out from under his clothes and go to step around him, but he stops me.
“Your ass stays there.” He jabs at the exact spot I’m standing on. And yeah, his eyes linger on my legs again.
“Or what… Daddy?” I suck on my lip to stop from snorting out a laugh at how bossy he’s being.
His mouth falls open, and his eyes laser at me in challenge. “Are you fucking serious? Do I look like your Daddy?”
I shrug again. Okay, I rub my legs to ease some of the sudden pressure flooding my body as he takes a step closer to tower over me, and then I shrug. But he’s to blame. His presence, dominance, however you want to put it, is intense.
“Killer, be a good girl and shut those pretty lips of yours. I’m moving your car out of the middle of the fucking road, then we’re going.”
“Where we going?” I drop my eyes suggestively. Unnecessarily but still, it feels good winding him up.
“Where the fuck do you think?”
“For all I know you could be a murderer.” I wink at him, sashaying my hips since he can’t take his eyes off them.
His eyes eventually bounce from them to my face, and now they’re all a glitter as he chuckles throatily. They are also full of dirty promises and endless teasing. He smirks for a second before he answers. “Yet, I’m not the one responsible for the carnage in the middle of the road.” He points at the proof.
I grimace and make a loud gasp as my eyes fly back down to the messy, squished out squirrel that started all this.
“You got a flat tire too. More importantly, I’ve got no interest in anything but your cunt on my lips. You good with that?”
His eyes are full of challenge, and a whole lot of smut. Not that his last comment was hard to understand, it was as obvious as a punch in the face. He gets my answer, my desire laden scent quickly finding its way to him.
“Yeah, I guess you are.” He’s got this habit of chuckling, deep and throaty after he talks, and by God it fucking works. He’s doing a fine job, keeping me slicked up and wanting more.
“It’s a rental,” I offer eventually as an afterthought.
He talks to me over his shoulder. “You can tell them to come pick up their piece of shit then. You didn’t want to get an upgrade?”
