“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.
Instead I turn, heading toward my Mustang. “Besides”—I open the door, get in, and roll down the passenger-side window—“believe it or not, your chances of survival are a helluva lot better with me than with Harley. Get in the damn car.”
She grimaces, stares hard at me for a minute, then looks off toward the road. With vigor, she bites her lip, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s going to chew it right the fuck off. I wait and watch. Wait and watch and wait and watch some more.
When she doesn’t make a move, I rev the engine, startling her. I almost laugh but manage to keep my expression placid as I stare at her gorgeous, undecided face. With an expectant eye roll, she begrudgingly swings open the door, climbs in, slams it, and crosses her arms.
She’s officially in the spider’s parlor. I mentally pat myself on the back.
“To. My. Dorm.” Insistency clings to each word as she rolls up the window. She plops her feet onto the dash, closes her eyes, and releases a soft, frustrated sigh.
I concentrate on the way she slowly moves the tips of her fingers over her forehead, removing the perspiration from her milky skin. What I wouldn’t give to shove those fingers in my mouth. I’d gratefully lick, suck, and swallow every bit of her sweat off them. My eyes shift to her nipples, which have hardened in the cooler air.
Christ. She had a better chance with Harley.
I can’t contain the groan that rumbles from my throat as I clutch the steering wheel tighter. It catches her attention.
“Nowhere else, Ryder.”
“Your wish is my command.” The lie flows from my mouth as easily as taking a piss. I’m not bringing her back to her dorm. No way in fucking hell. I didn’t work as hard as I did to spend less than thirty minutes with her. I want—no, I need more time with her.
Because of me, shit’s been tense the last few times we’ve been around each other. I have to right it, show her I’m not the total dick she thinks I am. My brain, the one I can always count on, conjures up a killer idea. I obediently follow it. Instead of making a left out of the parking lot in the direction of the campus, I drive straight across the highway, right back into the diner parking lot.
Exorcist-style, Amber twists her head around. “What are you doing?” she asks, her eyes bleeding frustration. “I said to my dorm and nowhere else.”
I shrug. “I’ve suddenly become . . . starving.”
“My ass,” she hisses.
“Is absolutely spectacular,” I finish, reaching for her purse.
She gasps, and I hop out of the car with it tight in my grip. Considering I’m more than positive her purse houses her cell, I’ve left her no other option but to follow me into the diner. I give myself another mental pat on the back.
She jumps from the car, shock visible in every pissed-off line and plane of her face. I’m quite aware I’m the source of it. Still, I want to pull her into me and kiss her anger away.
“Give me my purse!” she demands, trying to rip it from my hold.
My arm shoots up, hovering the flimsy piece of knotted rainbow cloth over her tiny yet athletic frame. “Give me a kiss.”
She cracks a mirthless smirk. “What? You’re not just going to force one on me?” She snorts and crosses her arms. “Looks like you’re losing your touch.”
My brows jump to my hairline. “Is that a serious comment?” She knows I’m not beyond it. Considering our brief history, I find her statement brazen. It doesn’t surprise me that this also turns me on. Still dangling her purse over her head, I step closer, forcing her back against my car. “Because if that’s what you want, you know I can deliver, and deliver very well.”
She angrily digs her hands into her hips. They’re the kind of hips that have just the right amount of meat on them. The kind a dude like me can grip while pounding into her sweet pussy.