Though it’d be a shitty thing to do, I really don’t need any company.
My stomach’s full from having an early dinner with some married chick, Layla. I fucked her on the new carpets I installed throughout her mansion while her lawyer husband won a case against some degenerate. After a few mediocre fucks, we got hungry and came here. I paid the bill; she slipped me her number and took off in her Mercedes. No strings attached—just my type. I might call her. Either way, it’s been a pretty decent day, and adding Amber to the mix could flip the script on it.
My other option includes getting Amber into my vehicle by turning on my charm, which seems to throw her into a frenzy. The charm I’ve been graced with comes naturally under circumstances such as this, but convincing her won’t be easy. Besides my not having seen her since the day she visited Brock at practice nearly a week ago, as usual, Amber will fight our sexual attraction. But the air-conditioning and my concern for a damsel in distress should do the trick.
Deciding on the second option, I rip out of the parking lot, my dick twitching in anticipation as I wait at a stoplight. What can I say? She gets me going.
Amber’s sitting on top of the trunk, a towel spread under her ass. Her elbows are resting on her knees, her hands clasping her hair, which has fallen from the security of its messy bun.
Fuck. She looks even hotter with her hair completely down.
I cross the busy two-lane road and slow my car to a crawl, stopping beside hers. Rolling her eyes, Amber lets out a scornful laugh, seemingly annoyed I just might turn out to be her fucking hero.
That’s right, baby, laugh it up. I’m about to make your day so much more interesting.
“Well, well, well,” I bark, my voice pitching over the speeding vehicles clogging the road as I step out of my car. “What do we have here?”
That earns me another eye roll.
I’ve gained points.
Many.
“God, not you. I’m being punished for something today. That’s obvious.” She sighs, trying to sound like she’s genuinely disturbed.
I can’t help but smile at her lame attempt. “Come on, momma, why you gotta be like that?”
She plows her sticky hair away from her shoulder.
Christ. My teeth ache to bite that shoulder during sex, my ears crave the little pant that would follow, and my tongue tingles to lick the painful but equally pleasurable wound I’d leave.
Amber’s huff breaks me from my dick-induced thoughts. “What do you want, Ryder?”
I raise a brow. “To help, of course.”
She tears her eyes from mine. “I don’t need your help. Believe me, I don’t.”
I cluck my tongue in what I’m sure she’ll find an annoying tsk and make my way toward her. She shoots me a third eye roll.
I smirk by default. Planting my hands on the trunk on either side of her waist, I give her a wide smile. Though she rears back and her gorgeous lips curl over her teeth, her eyes tell a different story.
She wants me.
Bad.
“Are you trying to get smacked again?” she inquires.
“Are you trying to dehydrate to death?” I counter. “And I wouldn’t mind getting smacked again by you. It’s been, what? Close to three weeks since I had that privilege?”
She narrows those storytelling eyes. “Can you back up and give me my space?” Her tone’s reached the level of sexual frustration I’m aiming for.
I reward her with another smirk for being a good student. “Can you give me a kiss?”
Another sigh. “You never stop, do you?”
“I’ve never been known to,” I point out, wondering if I should just pull down my jeans, whip out my dick, and show her exactly what she’ll be missing if she keeps hanging with Brock instead of me. However, I’m in a gentlemanly mood today, so I decide to tempt her with my original plan. Cold air and my company. I cross my arms, step back, and give her the space she’s lied about needing. “Is Brock coming to get you?”
“No. Why would you assume I called him for help?”
“You two have been hanging out. Why wouldn’t I?”
“We just started hanging out. I’m not bothering him with my shit yet.” She slides off the trunk. After tossing the towel into her car and retrieving her purse, she slams the door. “I’m going to call a tow service.”
“You trust Harley?” I fish a cigarette out from behind my ear, light it, and take a long drag. “That might not be a good idea.”
Her face goes all kinds of cute with confusion. “Who’s Harley?”
“Never mind.” She looks at me suspiciously, causing my dick to jerk in response. “Why would you pay for a tow when I can drive you back to your dorm?”
“Because I don’t wanna get in a car with you.” She scoffs.
I’m convinced she’s lying . . . again. I debate calling her out on it.
I do.
“I’m not buying your shit, Moretti, so stop with the fucking dramatics. They’re already getting old.”
Her eyes go wide. Damn. This is getting good.
“You know you’d rather be in a car with me over some stranger.” I flick my cigarette to the ground and stub it out with the tip of my work boot.
She scowls, but it’s barely noticeable. “Technically you are a stranger.”
I step into her face, eliciting a little gasp from her as I look down into her eyes. “Nah, we’ve kissed already,” I whisper, twisting my lips into a grin. “I’m past the stranger-danger level.”
She swallows nervously, and it takes everything in me to not bury my hands in her hair, tilt her beautiful face to the side, and plant my mouth over her racing pulse.