Page 125 of Luck of the Devil
“Yep.” But he was too out of it to notice I was distracted.
Think, Harper. Think. Time was running out, and James wasn’t in great shape. I could hear muffled voices above us.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw the gas cap on Malcolm’s car. I’d considered soaking a rag in alcohol and lighting it, but that might not create the bang I needed. I had no guarantee the gas fumes would catch.
Then a better idea came to me. I could pour some whiskey into the trunk and hope the fire burned hot enough to reach the tank and set off an explosion. But for that plan to work, we needed to be at least twenty feet away. The problem was, James could hardly sit upright, let alone sprint twenty feet through rough terrain in the dark.
Which meant I needed a second distraction.
I rose up to peek over the trunk. No sign of movement, which was worse than if I’d seen them. Were they waiting us out, hoping we’d make a desperate move? Or were they sneaking through the trees, closing in around us?
I climbed into the backseat again and found Malcolm’s jacket on the driver’s seat, but I quickly realized it probably wouldn’t work. The lining felt like it might be flammable, but the leather shell would melt. I hadn’t brought a jacket, but then I remembered the clothes in the trunk.
Reaching through the pass-through, I felt around until my fingers found denim—a pair of jeans. I positioned them near the opening, then kept digging until I found a loose T-shirt—James’s—and my bag. I pulled my own jeans out of the bag and added them to the pile, then tossed the T-shirt and the rest of the bag out of the car.
I followed, dropping to the ground after it, but as soon as I landed, I realized the fatal flaw in my plan.
“Fuck,” I whispered in frustration. All of this planning didn’t mean shit without something to ignite it. How could I make such a basic mistake?
“James,” I said, moving over to him. A fresh wave of panic hit me when he didn’t answer. “James.” I grabbed his arm and shook.
His eyes fluttered open. “What?”
“Do you have a lighter somewhere in the car?”
He frowned. “No.”
I fell back onto my butt, my eyes closing in defeat.
“But I have one in my pocket.”
I bounced up like a jackrabbit, leaning over him. “Which pocket?”
He patted his left hip, and I glanced down, noticing the slight lump on his outer thigh. “I’m going to reach into your pocket and grab it.” I straddled his legs, then dropped to the ground on his left side, before I slid my hand into his pocket, angling my hand at the junction of his leg.
“If you wanted to grab my dick, you just had to say so,” he murmured, his eyes still half-closed.
“You told me you weren’t interested in sleeping with me,” I said, trying to sound flippant while I dug my fingers deeper into his pocket. “Lift up your hips so I can reach.”
He obeyed and turned his head toward me. “You’re not searching in the right direction. My dick’s the other way.”
I couldn’t stop the chuckle bubbling up in my throat. Sure, we were about to die, but James was giving me dick directions. My fingertip bumped into the lighter, and I leaned in and pushed deeper. Once I had my fingers wrapped around the warm metal, I tugged it out, then pushed his leg down.
I straddled him again, planning to move to the other side to start the fire, but his large hands spanned my waist. His thumbs pressed against my hip bones, pinning me in place with surprising strength.
He tried to stare into my eyes, but his focus was off. “I wasn’t lyin’.”
I drew in a sharp breath, my entire body freezing at his touch. A jolt of electric awareness shot straight through my core, making me acutely conscious of every point where our bodies connected. “Lying about what?” I asked, irritated when it came out low and breathy.
“When I said I didn’t want to sleep with you,” he said, his mouth twitching into a half-smile.
“Okay,” I said in annoyance. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.” I tried to move off his legs, but his hands dug in, holding me in place. For someone whose brain was scrambled, he was amazingly strong.
He made a face. “I meant at first,” he said and paused. “I didn’t want to sleep with you at first. But somewhere along the way, that changed.”
My breath caught in my throat, but now wasn’t the time for this discussion. Not while we were possibly minutes from being gunned down. I tried to pull free from his grasp, but it was like trying to escape a vise. “James. You have to let me go so I can get us out of this.”
“Not yet,” he said, licking his bottom lip, and damned if my heart didn’t skip a beat watching him do it, my brain promptly conjuring up all the places that tongue could go.
