“Someone fun and naughty,” he says.
I meet his gaze, and he meets mine back, so very blue and so very taunting.
I pull my eyes away and stare out the window, feeling a little bit provoked. It’s nothing unusual, really, but tonight it feels worse, I can hardly stand it.
The night is cold; winter is coming to Chicago already. The windows are fogging up with our body heat. He alone is hot enough to fog any window; his body feels like a furnace. I can feel the warmth he emanates all the way to my seat and it takes effort not to draw closer.
I’m feeling reckless, crazy reckless. Determined to show him that I can be wild, fun, and unpredictable too. Fucker.
I turn my body so that he can’t see, then reach beneath my skirt and slowly start to ease off my panties.
He’s narrowing his eyes and smiling in disbelief, and I toss him a mischievous smirk as I ball them up and toss them into the glove compartment.
“Did you just take your panties off for me, you wicked girl?” he croons.
I nod slowly, inwardly feeling more disbelief than he. “If you can figure out which ones are mine, I’ll give you an A-plus and a gold star,” I say, trying not to sound breathless as I reach out to pat his stubbled cheek three times. Then, without another word, I get out of the car.
As I close the door, I see him grab all of the panties before getting out and following me. He shuts the door and locks the car with a beep, and as we head back to the sidewalk, he throws all of the panties into the first huge trash can that we see with the exception of one pair, which he keeps tightly fisted in his hand.
“You just threw away your entire collection? You could have totally thrown out mine!”
“We’ll see.” A confident smirk graces his lips.
He guides me back inside and takes his seat at the bar, while I return to the table with my friends.
From across the room, I watch as he reaches one thick finger into the right pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out an inch of fabric.
Peeking out at me, I see the navy-blue stripes of my little sailor boy shorts.
It should be funny, I mean, I was just joking around. Instead, all the dormant feelings and longing this man stirs in me are heightened as I think about him possessing something as personal as my pair of panties. And when I think of the collection he already had, I want to hit him nearly as hard as I want to take his goddamned beastly handsome face and kiss him.
I’m relieved and a little guilty when I get a call from Trent. I pick up and cover my free ear so that I can hear him better.
“Still with your friend?” he asks.
“Rachel, yes. We’re having dinner.”
“Where at?”
I tell him the name of the café.
“I’ll stop by on my way home, pick you up?”
I glance at Tahoe and notice there’s a girl talking to him and a part of me wonders if she’s the one who slipped her red panties into his pocket—panties that he thought were mine.
“Sure,” I whisper.
When Trent arrives in a cab twenty minutes later, I introduce him, “Trent, this is Rachel. Rachel, Trent.”
“Trent, I’ve been back less than a couple of hours and I haven’t stopped hearing about you,” Rachel says warmly as she greets him.
I lead Trent to the bar to introduce him to Saint and tell them all that we’re leaving.
Tahoe, who’s talking to some blonde, watches Trent narrowly while Saint shakes his hand.
As we say our goodbyes, Tahoe kisses the blonde on the cheek and comes to his feet. “I’m on my way out, I’ll drive you.” He looks directly at Trent as he fishes out a hundred-dollar bill to set on the bar.
I start at the offer, but Trent is already pumping his hand in greeting. “If you don’t mind, we appreciate it. Thanks, man.”
I ride shotgun in his Ghost, while Trent rides in the back, whistling appreciatively over the fine interior of Tahoe’s vehicle. “Great wheels, man. Spectacular.”
“She’s a smooth ride, isn’t she?” Tahoe’s voice is low and so intimate as he looks sideways at me that I feel naughty just hearing it. “A bit temperamental but I like her just like that.”
Trent laughs, but I’m scowling.
There’s silence before I once again hear Tahoe’s raspy voice. I notice his drawl is more evident.
“Hey, Regina, can you store this in my glove compartment? Some gorgeous cupcake left this in my possession and I want to be sure it’s in pristine condition when she wants it back.”
He smirks at me, his eyes dark and challenging.
I shove my navy-striped panties into the glove compartment, gritting my teeth, stealing a glance over my shoulder to see if Trent is watching. He isn’t…he’s preoccupied with the smooth leather and gadgets of the car.
When Tahoe finally drops us off at Trent’s building, I follow Trent out only to make an excuse and walk back. I swing open the passenger door of Tahoe’s car, lean in, and say in a demanding tone, “What are you doing?”
He looks at me, his eyes wild and untamed.