Page 56 of Hart Breaker

He sings the whole damn song, too, and not gonna lie, he ain’t that bad.

When the song changes again, we both turn and look at each other, exchanging a look that seems to ask, “You like this one?”

He smiles and speeds up, and again starts to sing. I decide, fuck it, and join in singing “Song 2” by Blur.

The songs just keep coming, and I have to admit I’m enjoying this. How could I not? Great music, hot as hell reflection of Hudson Hart on the window, and he’s singing without giving a damn, making me feel free to do the same thing.

Then he reaches over and increases my time by fifteen minutes.

“What the hell?” I try to bat his hand away.

“Thirty minutes is for pussies, Riley Brooks. You’re no pussy, are you?”

I completely allow my competitive nature to kick in. “Is that a challenge?”

“Damn right, it is.”

“Twenty bucks says I can outlast you.”

“I’ll see your twenty and raise you one date, when you’re ready.”

“Don’t make this about that.” I scowl.

“Don’t make me keep wondering if I’m alone in this,” he counters.

“Fine.” I reach across and up his speed. “I’m going to kick your ass, Hart.”

“After I win this date, I promise to let you win every other comp you can dream up. Just gonna ask that they gradually get super-hot, like who can stay underwater longer while performing oral.”

I have to grab the handrails again to stop from falling. “Whaaaat?”

“Or how many cherries I can eat off your body without getting so worked up I blow it in my boxers.”

I laugh. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m releasing two years’ worth of suppressed filthy thoughts I bottled up involving everything I want to do to your hot little body.”

“I’m not a size two. I’m?—”

“Which makes it all so much hotter.” He groans, freaking groans. “Help me out here … when we fucked in the bathroom, how much titty action did you allow me?”

And that’s when I do stumble.

“Fuck, shit, dammit,” he says, hurrying to where I’m crouched on my knees, burying my head so he doesn’t see my face. “Brooksie, babe, are you okay?”

He’s squatted down in front of me, and I snap at him, “You can’t say shit like that to me.”

“I’m not good with keeping shit inside.” He rubs his hand down my back. “Where are you hurt?”

I roll my head to the side and look up at him. “I’m not hurt. I’m good. You just?—”

“Turned you on,” he states as he takes my hand and pulls me up. “Good to know.”

“Hudson …” I take my hand from his. “I am not jumping into a relationship with anyone, and you should be thinking about your career.”

“You’re in tight little shorts and a sports bra. You’re just as turned on by me as I am by you.” I open my mouth, and he holds his hand up. “Right now, we have no lies between us.” He holds his hand to his chest. “Your nips are basically waving me over, so if you deny it, that’s a lie. I don’t want that.”

I cross my arms over my chest.

---