After bunching the long sleeves enough to poke her hands through the ends, she flipped the hood up and shifted closer to me, right up against my side, like right against my side. I looped an arm around her shoulders, glanced back for the ex, and when I didn’t spot him, I started us toward my truck.
We didn’t speak all the way there. For some reason, I knew anything I said would ruin the intimacy of the moment, so I just enjoyed the feel of her heat and soft body plastered against mine. When I pointed out my baby, Julianna slowed to a stop, her eyes widening with horror.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What?” I asked, confused, glancing down at her.
She pointed. “I can’t ride in that. That has got to be the whitest, white-boy truck I’ve ever seen!”
I owned a red, 1980 lifted Chevy 4x4 Silverado short bed with a roll bar and flood lights. Shrugging, I silently admitted, okay, it looked like something the ultimate redneck might drive. I didn’t care; I still liked it.
“Trust me, if you were fully prepared to ride me, I think you can ride in my truck just fine.”
She sent me a scowl. “Don’t be crude.”
“Don’t knock my baby,” I flipped back. Opening the passenger’s side door, I motioned her forward. “Do you want in, or not?”
Heaving out a huge sigh, she stepped forward, muttering, “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” only to pause when she saw how high up she had to climb to get inside. “Running boards would be nice here.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But it looks cooler without them.”
“Cool or not, I don’t know how the hell you expect me to get up there.” She grabbed the door frame and lifted one foot into the cab.
“Why, with a little help from your friendly chauffeur, of course.” Before she realized what I had planned, I set my hands on her ass and heaved her up.
She screeched out her surprise and went stumbling forward, tumbling into the floorboard of the truck. Once she was inside and whirled around, settling into the seat, she glared outside at me, where I was grinning back.
“Was that absolutely necessary?”
“Oh, yeah,” I answered. “Think of it as my consolation prize for rescuing you from your ex and driving you home without getting any action from it.”
She huffed out her aggravation, but then I swore I saw a smile of amusement seep through. “Well, I guess it was better than you trying to cop a feel of my breasts,” she finally allowed.
“Don’t worry, I felt those too, when you put on my jacket and snuggled up against my side.”
When her mouth fell open, I chuckled and shut the door. Then I hurried around to the driver’s side, only to pause with my fingers wrapped around the door handle.
I was pretty sure spending more time with her would only lead to more heartache. But honestly, nothing was going to keep me away right now, especially when she was scared.
Heaving out a bolstering breath, I opened the door and climbed in. The interior held a bench seat, so she could’ve slid all the way over to sit right next to me if she felt so inclined.
She did not.
She hugged the passenger side door and clutched my jacket to her as she gazed out the side window.
I watched her huddle into my coat a moment, wondering if it’d smell like her when I got it back. Then I shook my head and started the engine.
“So this guy’s pretty bad news, huh?” I asked as I set my hand on the gear shift and pressed the clutch before turning the ignition. “I mean, I didn’t think anyone gave you the creeps as much as I did, but if you turned to me for help, he must be pretty damn creepy.”
She turned from the window to face me, blinking as if confused. “You don’t give me the creeps.”
“Right,” I said slowly. “So, how many times did he hit you?”
“You don’t creep me out,” she argued a little more forcefully. “You… You just…”
When words failed her, I waved a hand before pulling out of my parking spot. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to explain it. I already got you all figured, baby doll.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh, do you?”
“I do.”
She let out an incredulous laugh. “Then please…tell me everything about me. I’m dying to know.”
I shrugged. “Okay. Since you asked for it. You’re a fighter. You fight the things you like but don’t think you should like. You have some preconceived notion set up in that brain of yours, telling you what you think is good for you and what you want, but when something comes along that doesn’t fit into those boxes, you try to reject it. You do it every time you look at me, even though I know you like what you see, and you did it when I made you come. You fought it the entire way through.”
I could feel her tense up from all the way across the cab of the truck. “I did not,” she muttered, clearly unwilling to accept such a thing. But then, who would like hearing that, I guess.
“You did,” I murmured gently, “which you shouldn’t do, you know. Orgasms are meant to be accepted openly and appreciated through the full extent of the ride. Resisting them only hurts yourself.”