Page 40 of Riding the Edge

Sliding my hands up his chest, I twist his shirt between my fingers.

“This,” I whisper, meeting his gaze.

The more he stares at me the more I start to realize I’ve never had a man look at me the way he does. Normally, I get the guy who looks like he’s unsure what to do with me. The man who has no problem with a woman making a move or taking charge. With Al, it’s clear he’s the one controlling this ride and judging by the feral way he’s looking at me, I doubt he’s going to relinquish that control any time soon. Surprisingly, I’m okay with that. I guess it’s never too late to be swept away by a man.

“Not here,” he growls.

Sure I heard him wrong, I blink as he presses a kiss to my forehead. Leaning back, he glances at my shoulder and removes his fingers from my hair. Carefully, he rights my bra strap and tucks it under the cotton of my tank top.

“Don’t look so disappointed, Lady,” he smirks, reaching up to cradle my face with both hands. “I just don’t share,” he says, lowering his voice as his gaze sweeps around the street. There isn’t much traffic at this hour and yet we’ve still managed to garner the attention of people passing by.

“Looks like you were right,” I reply, wrapping my hands around his wrists.

“Twice in one night, I’m on a roll,” he quips, running his thumb over my lower lip. “What am I right about?”

“People turned their heads at us and I was too busy enjoying myself to notice.”

The corners of his eyes pinch as he flashes me a grin.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, dropping his hands from my face.

Pulling me to my feet, he bends to retrieve my purse from the bench and hands it to me before draping his arm around my shoulders, bringing me into the crook of his arm. Huddled together, we walk in stride towards the car. Being so close to him feels natural and I’m surprised there is no nagging need to put space between us. If anything, I want more of him. I guess it’s true—when you get a taste of a real man, nothing is ever the same.

Finally reaching the car, he opens the passenger door for me. Taking my purse, he watches me slide into the seat. As I pull on my seatbelt, he drops my purse into my lap and closes the door. Once he’s seated next to me, he revs the engine of the Charger and peels away from the curb. His hand finds mine, and he pulls it onto his lap.

“I want to see you again,” he says.

“I’d like that,” I reply. “Maybe next time, you’ll be the one who spills their life story.”

“I promise you it ain’t all that interesting.”

“I doubt that,” I say thoughtfully. “You’ve lived a lot of life.”

“Are you calling me old?”

Laughing, I shake my head.

“No, I’m saying you’ve probably experienced a lot. You’ve seen and done things, not everyone does. They could probably write a movie about your life.”

“It’d be the biggest flop the box-office ever saw.”

“I’d pay to see it.”

“Yeah?”

“I’d even spring for a full price ticket and a tub of popcorn.”

His lips quirk as he brings our joined hands to his lips, placing a quick kiss to my knuckles. I imagined his beard would feel rough against me, but it’s soft on my skin, making me crave more of it. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m infatuated with the beard.

“You should wait for the sequel,” he says, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. Forcing his beard to the back of my head, I arch an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“Sequels are like second chances, sometimes they work out better because everyone involved has learned from their mistakes.”

“You learn from your mistakes?”

“I learned what’s important.”

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