“Figures. It’s showy, but way too small for you. You’re too big.”
Dylan pulls me toward the silver convertible and moves the velvet roping aside. “Nope. It’s perfect.”
“What are you doing?”
He opens the passenger door. “Sit.”
“Are you sure—”
“Go on.” He pushes me slightly and I take a seat.
“Okay. I’m in.”
He closes the door and runs around to get in the driver’s seat. “1955 Porsche Spyder. Only a few were made. James Dean was driving this car—a car like this I mean—when he died.”
“Oh.” I lean my head back and look across at him. Dylan rubs along the dash as he speaks. “This car is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever been close to. I’d trade my firstborn for this car.”
“Glad I’m not your first—”
“An expression, Gorgeous Girl. Just an expression. This is my favorite place in the city and my favorite seat. I come here when life is too crazy and I need something bigger than myself and my problems to focus on.”
I look around at all the cars on the showroom. “I get it. You bring all your dates here.”
He’s silent for several seconds and he stares at the steering wheel. “For one, I thought we weren’t on a date. Two, no. You’re the only one I’ve ever brought here.”
A thrill shoots into my belly, making me feel like a giant Tesla ball of electricity sits in my center. “Oh.”
He reaches across and takes my left hand. Brings it to his lips and kisses my knuckles. Stares into my eyes.
My head spins with thoughts of where this is going. I gulp. “Hey, pretty boy—”
He stops me by placing a finger to my lips. “Don’t ruin it. Don’t say another word. Don’t think you’re fooling me, because I see the real you, Gorgeous Girl.”
I’m done for. Weak. A slave to the way my body gravitates toward him despite the warning bells clanging like a fire alarm in my head.
“I’m going to kiss you now. And you’re going to shut up and let me.” He’s moving toward me as he says the words.
“Ok. I’m shutting up now—”
A smile tugs one corner of his mouth the second before his mouth crashes onto mine.
Chapter Ten
Addicted to You
Dylan
We sit in Maxwell’s Gearheads, the lights low, the place empty, my hands searching for skin as they roam Emerson’s body. I realize it’s winter, but she’s wearing too much. I rub her lower back, pressing that sweet indention at the base of her spine as she arches toward me.
I pull my mouth from hers and glance around, wishing we’d chosen to sit in a car with a back seat. It’s not like I’d planned to have sex with her in Max’s place, but holy hell I need more than her mouth.
I drop my lips to the edge of her jawline and plant kisses in a trail to her neck. She smells like tangerines and ocean spray. Sunshine and sex.
My teeth graze along her collarbone and my tongue tastes her. Her body relaxes, and then she slides her hands along the sides of my neck and sighs. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve heard in my life, and I’m positive she has no idea she made it. It’s the sigh of a guy, standing in front of the Lamborghini, who opens his wallet and hands me a credit card.
I didn’t expect Emerson to give in to her desires so easily.
“Damn stick.” I attempt to move closer, but the bucket seats and the stick shift in the floor are in the way. Emerson was right earlier when she said the car was too small for me, but I still manage to lean over to her side of the car. I return to her mouth and tease her tongue with mine, the feel of her lips so soft and sweet.
Her sweater is long and I tug it up so I can run my other hand inside the bottom of her top. Tracing my hand along the slight curve of her hip, I smile against her mouth. This girl is a goddess, and the time I’ve spent chasing her will be worth it.
She’s kissing me back with no hesitation, so I’m surprised when she suddenly pulls back. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
“Sure you can.” Can a person get drunk from desire? I’m only half sober at this point. The other half of my brain pulses in heady pleasure.
I push the hair from her eyes. She’s not looking at me now and the way she stares down sends a stab of panic into my chest. “What’s wrong? Don’t shut me out now. “
She gives me a sad smile and her gaze flicks up. “I don’t want to end up as one of your hookups. You know? Have you even had a steady girlfriend in the past year? Anyone you’ve been with more than a couple of times? I’m sorry, Dylan. I know too much. You are a man slut.”
I shift to my side of the car and lean back in my seat. “That’s harsh.”
“But true.” She presses a hand against her eyes like she can shut me out for a minute.
“So you think.”
“You forget. I’ve seen your panty collection.”
I laugh, but the sound is more uneasy than I want it to be. “There is no collection.”
“Only because I throw them away while cleaning house.” She drops her hand and glares at me.
“Jealous?”
“No. Disgusted.”
“You’re right. I like sex. And I’m sorry that you’ve been around to know too much about my sex life in the past. This thing between us is different. I haven’t been with anyone since I decided I want you.”
She leans her head to the side. Her lashes fan down as she studies the space between us. “Have you ever had a steady girlfriend?” It’s as though she is embarrassed to let on that this is important to her.
“Sure. But I think you’re getting me confused with guys like Collin.”
She lifts her gaze to meet mine. “There’s nothing wrong with Collin.” She shakes her head as if she’s trying to shake off her desire for me. “How many girls have you been out with more than twice?”
I shift in my seat and adopt a casual smile. “A few.”
“Tell me more. I want to hear about these girls who snagged you for repeats.”
There’s a moment when my chest constricts. Constricts because I see the one girl I really wanted a repeat with for the rest of my life, but she’s long gone. Dammit. How did we end up talking instead of kissing? Dammit all to hell.
I rub a hand along the top of the steering wheel and stare at it.
Emerson sits up straight in her seat. “Is something wrong?” she asks softly.
“Nothing.” I take her hand and rub my thumb along the palm of hers. When I see the smile disappear, I squeeze her hand. “Listen. You want to know about my dating record, and that’s fair. I understand. But I have a hard time with commitment.”
“Is this a normal guy phobia or more?”
I shrug. “Everybody has more. Don’t they?”
“Not me.” She leans her head back against the seat and looks through the windshield of the convertible. “What you see is what you get.”
“I don’t agree. You have a lot of drama in your life, and I’m trying to figure out what’s up with that. You have secrets. Somebody is watching your apartment. You have a past. All this makes me wonder how a girl goes from homecoming queen to stripper.”