She counted to ten before she trusted herself to speak. “I don’t even know your name.”
He looked back at her, his eyes wary. “And that’s a problem because?”
Her eyes widened and she gripped the wheel until her knuckles whitened, but she was proud her voice did not betray her shock at his blunt way. She turned left, heading down the tiny two lane country road toward her brother’s one bedroom farm house. Trees, appearing like black specters in the moonlight, framed either side of the road. The rain had trickled down to a fine mist and it felt like driving through a fairy tale. The teal and navy blue sky twinkled with starlight, the full moon filled the sky like a giant golden orb.
Her heart sped with the driving thought that this was a great place to be abducted and raped. Fear turned her words sharp.
“Look, I’m trying to be a good Samaritan here. I could have just called the cops, but I didn’t. You’ve been loitering on our grounds, scaring away the customers and I just want to know the name of the man who--” Betty gasped, and then paused, realizing her near mistake. What she’d almost said, almost admitted.
The tilt of his head and narrowing of his eyes spoke volumes. She scrunched down on the seat, stepping harder on the gas.
“Who what?” His accent went supersonic gravelly and her nipples hardened. Betty felt like one of Pavlov’s dogs-- ring a bell and it’s time for food-- except in this case it was hear that deep French burr and her body tingled with a hot rush of sexual arousal. Gah, she’d never been so turned on by the sound of a man’s voice before.
He shifted his muscular frame and she hated how aware of him she was. His clothes were still the same horrible things from the day before, ripped, tattered, and sexy as hell. She bit her tongue and his eyes danced with light.
“Turned you on,” he said, his finger trailed feather light along the back of her hand and she jerked the wheel hard to the left, the tires squealed as she pulled to the side of the road. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
Perfectly shaped teeth bit his perfectly shaped lips and...
“I could smack you!” Betty parked her car and flicked his hand off. “Do you always have to get so... so, grabby? Ugh!” She wrapped her arms around herself.
Cocky arrogance touched his face and she gnashed her teeth. Had she learned nothing from James?
“Don’t tell me you don’t like my touch, femme vipere. I tasted the sweetness of your surrender, you lie to say you do not.”
Angry, ashamed, she panted for breath as her nails dug into her palms. “One, don’t call me a viper. So not the way to get on my good side. Two--”
He raised his brow, seeming more amused by her than offended. She trembled, but she wasn’t exactly sure it was just from rage because he was leaning in again. Absorbing all the oxygen in her bubble, the heat of his body snapped across her skin with the shock of static.
“T... two,” she stuttered and he pushed his finger against her lips.
“Has anyone ever told you, you’ve the voice of a harpy--” Betty sucked in a sharp breath, “but the lips of a succulent sweet fruit?” He said the last with his lips feathering across hers and she was going to slap him.
Any second now.
“I... I.” Was all she got out when his lips pressed hard and firm and with a desperate moan she opened her mouth, hating him, herself, and all of mankind.
His large hands framed her face, so gentle and warm while his mouth plundered hers. His tongue swept in and she tasted him and how he tasted of brandy and cherry pipe smoke, she’d never know and at the moment, could give a rat’s patootie. All she knew was she wanted more.
Betty nipped at his lip and though he hissed, he didn’t pull back and neither did she. What was he doing to her? She wrapped her hands around the back of his head, twining his thick wet hair around her fingers. Now he was running his big hand down her arm and somehow, he’d unbuttoned her jacket and was now stroking the front of shirt. Touching her, molding his fingers around her heavy breasts and she flexed her body, opening up to him.
A sound like a whimper rang in her ears. She struggled to pinpoint where it came from only to start with a jerk when his fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt. His touch burned a path straight to her aching core.
There went that whimper again and this time she was startled to realize it was coming from her. She pushed against his chest, his muscle slid beneath her palm and it was a little bit of torture to push him away.
She squeezed her eyes shut, leaning her forehead against his as she struggled for breath. “You can’t keep doing that.”
“Gerard.” He said simply and sat back.
“Do what?” Betty looked at him. His hair poked up where she’d twirled it. He scrubbed a fist down his face.