The show I’d turned on played at a reasonable volume, but as my focus drifted once more to the helmet resting on my coffee table, it turned into background noise, like voices muffled by running water.
As hard as I tried to keep my mind from drifting, I just couldn’t seem to help myself. It seemed like every minute my thoughts traveled back to this morning when I’d been on the back of Stone’s motorcycle.
At first, the fear of crashing had kept me from focusing on anything else, but eventually, I realized that Stone had told the truth. He really did know how to handle himself on that bike, and as the seconds ticked by that fear faded. Surprisingly, I really did feel safe with him, and once I’d loosened up a bit, I was able to enjoy myself.
With that came the realization that I was pressed against the man I’d been thinking about for months so tight not even light could get through. Being that close to him had been a particular fantasy of mine for longer than I cared to admit, and thinking back to that morning made my skin feel fevered and tight. When I remembered how the muscles in his stomach had flexed and rippled against my palms through the thin material of his T-shirt, a dull, persistent throb took up residence between my legs.
He was just so damn big, and being wrapped around him like a koala had been out of this world. I wasn’t ashamed to admit there were a few—dozen—times during the short ride that I’d burrowed my nose in the back of his shirt and inhaled deeply. His usual motor oil and woods scent smelled fresher, like the wind that had been whipping around us had made it crisper somehow.
If I thought I’d been addicted to his scent before, it was so much worse now that I’d been up close and personal with it.
I was pulled out of my daydream by the rumble of a loud engine coming down the road. Determined to put Stone out of my head and focus on the show I’d been attempting to watch, I snuggled deeper into my cushy sofa and forced my eyes to stay the hell away from that helmet.
Instead of passing by, that engine grew louder and louder until it sounded like it was coming from right outside. I hopped up and moved to the front door, swinging it open, and quickly discovered it was because the truck making that noise was currently parked in my driveway.
The bright cherry red gleamed in the late evening twilight, and the white roof was shiny and clean. It was, without a doubt, an awesome truck. But I didn’t understand what the hell it was doing in my driveway.
The rumble cut off just as I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped out onto the front porch. A second later, the sound of the driver-side door opening broke through the quiet of my peaceful little street, and Stone came sauntering around the hood, all graceful and predatory as usual.
His dark hair, cut short on the sides but kept longer up top, flopped over his forehead, and when he lifted a hand to push it back, his muscles flexed beneath all that tantalizing ink.
It was as if my overactive imagination had conjured him up out of thin air. Either that or I was living my very own Sixteen Candles moment and my own personal Jake Ryan had just shown up outside my door.
Get it together, Willow. This is real life, for crying out loud. Not some 80’s teen romantic comedy.
“Hey,” I said in greeting.
He lifted his head, those whiskey-brown eyes hitting me full on with all the strength of a sledgehammer. That ever-present blush I suffered whenever he was near flamed to life on my cheeks and neck. “Hey, mouse. Hope it’s okay I swung by unannounced.”
He could swing by unannounced any time he wanted, in the dead of night or at the butt crack of dawn for all I cared. Instead of saying that, I nodded and replied. “Uh . . .” I cleared my throat, determined to play it cool and not make a fool out of myself like I always did. “Y-yeah. Totally. It’s totally fine. I wasn’t doing anything. I swear.”
So much for cool. Damn it.
One side of his mouth quirked up in a grin that made my nipples stiffen beneath my bra.
That’s okay, you can still salvage this. Crossing my arms over my chest to hide my body’s natural reaction to Gavin “Stone” Hendrix, I summoned up my nerve and attempted small talk that would contain no mention of sweat. “So, um, nice truck. That yours?”
He looked toward the vehicle while scratching at the few days’ worth of stubble coating his jaw.
I wonder how that scruff might feel between my thighs.
“I guess technically it’s yours. For right now at least.”
That statement pulled me out of my erotic thoughts and back to the present. “I’m sorry. What?”
He moved to the base of the porch steps, resting one foot on the bottom stair and extended his arm to brace his hand on the banister. The veins in his forearm throbbed and bulged. It was arm porn at its absolute finest. “It’s your loaner.”
A sense of dread washed over me. I couldn’t imagine that a classic truck like that would be cheap.
As if sensing my rising panic, he spoke again before I could get a word out. “It’s from the garage, not through a rental company,” he said quickly. “There’s no cost to you at all. The truck’s yours for as long as you need it.”
My mouth opened and closed several times as I gaped at him like a fish out of water. “You mean like, for free?”
“Yeah, mouse,” he said on a chuckle. “For free.”
That sounded way too good to be true. “Stone, I can’t—”
“We do this all the time, Will,” he interrupted. “It’s just a loaner. It’s not a big deal. You needed a ride. Well”—he flung his arm out at the truck—“now you have a ride.”
I caught my bottom lip between my teeth and bit down as I studied the truck sitting in my driveway.
It really was fine as hell.
“Just one thing,” he said, pulling my attention back to him. “You can drive a stick, right?”
Chapter Nine
Stone
I’d been gritting my teeth so hard it was a wonder my molars hadn’t turned to dust. Each time she shifted gears and the truck made that godawful grinding noise, I could feel my balls burrow up into my stomach a little more.
I’d silently apologized to my baby more times than I could count for what she’d been going through the past ten minutes.
When I’d asked Willow if she could drive a stick, she’d assured me that her father had taught her when she was younger, but that it had been a long time since she’d driven one, so I’d offered to take her out for a refresher.
And now I was living my nightmare. By the time I got Big Red back, I’d probably have to replace the entire fucking transmission.
“Sorry!” Willow called loudly over the grinding gears as she attempted to shift from second to third. “I swear I’ve done this before. I just need to get back into the rhythm of it.”
I unclenched my jaw, swallowing the blood inside my mouth from biting the inside of my cheek. “It’s cool.” I offered her a grin that I hoped didn’t look as forced as it felt. “You’re doing great.”
Lying wasn’t wrong if you were doing it to make the other person feel better, right?
Willow cringed as she shifted again. She was sitting so close to the wheel it was nearly fused to her chest, like the closer she was to the pedals, the better she’d be able to drive.