Page 9 of King of Pain

But here I am, with Hot Luke—that’s what I’m calling him.

He takes several more turns and then points at a sign. “Does that say it’s a highway?”

I squint. Without the headlights reflecting off the sign, it’s really hard to read. “I think so?”

“Catch which way we’re supposed to go?” he asks.

“No. Sorry.” Crap. I’m not helping at all, and this guy has done nothing but help me. I can give him that.

But I’ve got my contacts in, and my eyes are so dry, I can barely see the signs.

“Well. Luck of the draw I guess,” and then he takes a sharp turn onto an on ramp.

The moment we hit the highway, he turns on the headlights and I let out a sigh of relief.

I’m still holding his arm, his really muscular arm, and I can’t seem to make my fingers unclench.

“Thanks for patching me up.”

“You would have been fine without me, the bleeding had already slowed.”

He jerks his chin in acknowledgment.

I glance at the speedometer, noting that we’re going about eighty-five and the little Fit is vibrating.

It’s not exactly a performance car, not that Luke seems to care. He’s still got the accelerator to the floor, his jaw locked as his hands grip the wheel.

Dangerous looks so good on him.

I look down, trying to keep my thoughts clean, but that only brings my gaze to his lap.

His thighs are thick with muscles, and the bulge…

There go my insides, dancing and aching. This is no way for me to lose my virginity. Then again, it’s kind of pathetic I haven’t already.

But like I said. I’ve been focused on my studies. And trying to prove to myself, and the rest of the world, I can be something, despite the fucked-up way I grew up.

I unlock my fingers from his arm and slide back into my seat.

“Can you check the glovebox for a map?”

“Sure,” I say, but I seriously doubt I’m going to find one. No one keeps maps around anymore.

A sign comes up and I note the town before clicking open the glove box and rifling around the contents. Nothing.

“We don’t know where we started,” I muse aloud. “Or which direction we’re going?”

“Right,” he answers, his jaw growing even harder. “All we know is that we’re headed… away.”

I nod. It’s not great to drive blindly into the night but at least I’m not in Vincent’s bed right now. And I’m so glad to not be alone. “I… uh… I know I said this already, but honestly, thank you for helping me. For not leaving me. It must have hurt like hell to get me over that wall.”

“It was nothing, love.” He looks over at me with that cocky, arrogant grin that makes my girl bits actually flutter. Like aching, pulsing need, Kegel-type feelings.

I should hate that smile. I know it’s trouble. He has all the markers of a “love ‘em and leave ‘em” kind of guy, but I’m not sure I care.

Lucky I’m wearing a terrycloth robe. Otherwise, I might have left a puddle on the seat.

I have got to get it together.

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