“You okay?” he asks, the words falling from his mouth roughly. His shoulders are built, making his arms hang from his sides with a distance, his strides long and masculine. He looks massive, and delicious. I blink and open my lips to speak.
“Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m n-not sure what’s wrong w-with it,” I stutter on my words, trying to wake myself from eye-fucking him and wave my hand toward the car. It’s a beat-up station wagon that has seen better days. With the hood up and the constant smoke rolling out from under it, it’s easy to pull off that my car has broken down.
He bends over the car, eyeing the engine, and I take the opportunity to check him out. My eyes sweep down his muscled back; his tattooed biceps are built and stretching the sleeves on the white shirt he’s wearing under his leather vest. His ass looks fit and hard. The way it appears in those jeans should be illegal.
He fiddles with caps and oil sticks under the hood, trying to figure out the problem, and I keep checking his hard body out, imagining what it would be like having it over me. Yeah, ‘cause the last time that happened it went so well. I close my eyes and shake my head at myself, but I can’t help but open them again and look back at his body. When my gaze catches his wallet, I’m reminded what I’m really after. Money. Food. Gas. I walk around him and trail my hand along his back seductively. His head slowly turns, eyeing my hand that caresses his shoulder. That’s the key, getting him to focus on this hand instead of where I’m about to put my other hand.
“Yeah, I’m not sure what’s wrong with it,” I lie, trying to distract him. He looks at me from the corner of his eyes and smirks before sliding his tongue along his bottom lip. The way his tongue flicks his lip ring, I almost forget to swipe his wallet. Almost. I slide my finger along the top of the billfold and gently pull it loose at the same time I slip my hand off his back.
I shove the wallet down my shorts quickly as he continues to look at the engine. “I’ll try and start it again,” I offer. Side-stepping him, I crawl behind the wheel and start it with ease.
“Yup. I think it just got too hot or something.” I shrug. He gives me a confused look and runs his hands through his hair.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he replies softly.
“See you around.” I give a little wave and watch him climb on his bike. He looks over his shoulder and pins me with a stare I’ll never forget. A stare that says a thousand things. Like he doesn’t want to go, that he wants to say something else. I don’t want him to leave either, but I am in no position to be with anyone, no matter how fucking hot he is. I tear my eyes from his first and look at the seat beside me.
After he leaves, I open his wallet, reading his name, address, weight. All of it.
“Phillip DeLuca.” I taste his name running off my lips as I trace my finger over his picture. He’s so handsome. He’s the kind of guy most people would be afraid of, but not me. I want to get to know him. Lost in a daydream, my car door is yanked open.
“Where the fuck is it, bitch?”
“What?” I shriek as I’m pulled out of the car and slammed forward onto the hot hood. “I don’t have anything!” I scream, trying to pull free. He shoves me back down on the hood. His hand tangled in my hair.
“Don’t think about moving,” he spits, his tone harsh. I roll my eyes and continue leaning over the hood. My heart slams against my chest in pure panic, and my hands shake. He pulls away and leans in to the car. Within seconds, he finds his wallet. Shit.
He peers at me with a fierce energy in his eyes. The intensity has me pulling off the hood, scared out of my mind.
“You have some balls,” he mutters, shoving his wallet back in his pocket. His tone is soft and tender suddenly. I turn my head and eye him angrily.
“Fuck you.” I cross my arms and lean my hip against the car. My choice of words more confident than I’m feeling.
He steps up to me and grabs my hips hard with both hands. My skin burns, and my mouth parts with desire. His brown eyes find mine, and his hands yank my body closer to his. I feel like all the air is sucked from my lungs as I search his dark eyes. Placing my hands on his solid chest to steady myself, my palms buzz with excitement.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He looks me up and down and leans in close. “You’d like it if I pushed you over the hood of this car and fucked you ‘til your legs gave out.” His words feather against my lips, he’s so close. I hold my breath, willing my body to pull away, but I don’t move. Just when I think he’s going to kiss me, he grabs my hand and pulls it upward. I furrow my brows and watch as he pulls a pen from his back pocket, pulling the cap off with his teeth. He writes his number and the word ‘Lip’ on my hand.
“Call me. Don’t make me come find you, Cherry.”
“Cherry?” I ask out loud.
“Your swimsuit,” he yells over his shoulder before starting his bike. I look down at my white shirt noticing my cherry bikini peeking out from the bust line. A smile creeps across my face. I know I shouldn’t like him, but I kind of do. Driving past me, he winks and I swear I sigh like a damn fool.
CHAPTER TWO