He carries himself with a confidence few could muster. King of the world but not an aristocratic way. No, Nash walks, talks, looks, and smells like danger. Like the king of the underworld. Devil on a throne of thorns. Every step is threatening, every look piercing. An aura of importance drones around him, making me question my own sanity because, as menacing as he is, he’s irresistible.
“Will you take me to a stationery store?” I call out, losing the battle with common sense. “I need a notebook.”
“I’m aware.”
Is thatyes, I’ll take you, or...
I stomp my foot. He doesn’t make conversation easy.
“Okay, fine. Wait!”
To my surprise, he stops. I expected him to keep walking, but he glances over his shoulder and only starts moving again when I catch up. He doesn’t speak as we navigate the path; the loaded silence gets me all kinds of restless.
“So... what car do you drive?” I ask, aiming for small talk.
“Why? Are there any cars you won’t sit your pretty ass in?”
There’s that word again:pretty.
It’s nothing. He doesn’t mean it and I’m a complete fool for blushing: an even bigger fool for the gleeful thoughts swirling in my head.
He called my ass pretty!
Pathetic.
“When have you been admiring my ass?”
“Any chance I get,” he retorts, not an ounce of shame about the admission. “Does that...” He points at a fully restored old muscle car, “...meet your expectations?
“Powerful andbig. Exactly what I thought it would be.”
I round the hood to take the passenger seat, but before I touch the handle, Nash is there, opening the door for me. I wouldn’t have pegged him for a man with manners.
“Overcompensating much?” I muse.
He cocks an eyebrow, holding the hint of a smile as he silently urges me to continue.
“I’ve seen yourteenie weenie, remember?”
“Sounds like you need another peek, pretty girl. Not all men who have big cars are compensating.” He leans in so close his lips almost brush my ear, his warm, minty breath sending shivers down my spine. “It’s sadthat’s what you’re used to. Must’ve been disappointing.” Straightening back, he gestures to the seat.
He shuts the door as soon as I’m inside, giving me a few precious seconds to cool off while he heads for the driver’s seat. I need to cool off because those few loaded words are enough to ignite a fever in my blood.
“Put your seatbelt on,” he orders, turning the key.
The engine roars to life. Literally roars, the noise almost deafening before the idle speed drops.
“Shit.” I grab his wrist as he takes the gearshift, my nerve endings tingling at the feel of his warm skin. “I don’t have a permission slip. I need to ride in the trunk.”
“A permission slip?”
My eyebrows draw together. “Yes. We need one whenever we want to leave the grounds. You don’t have one either?”
“That’s bullshit, Hailey. I’ve been in and out all week. No one’s checking permission slips.”
“But... it’s in the rules.”
Nash outstretches his arm over my seat, turning around while he reverses out of the parking space. “What rules?”
