Page 41 of Avoiding Temptation
“It just seems so…”
“Serious?” he repeats. “Chill out. I can just change it later, it’s not like I’ve given you a key to my flat or anything.”
He’s right, I know he is, but I also don’t think I believe a word that’s just fallen from his lips.
Trying to ignore the tingles racing around my body every time he glances over at me, I scroll through his music. I come to a stop when I find something that looks interesting and hit play on his ‘Old Skool Trax’ playlist.
He nods his head in approval and turns the volume up slightly, but not so much that we can’t still hold a conversation.
“It’s your turn.” His hand squeezes my thigh, its heat burning my skin and making it hard to concentrate.
“Uh…night in or night out?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“No, why?”
“Wherever you are.”
“That’s not how this game works,” I chastise, trying to ignore the elation that bubbles up within me as I repeat his answer over and over in my head.
“You know, if you want to live a little, you’ve got to break the rules every now and then, right?”
“Not my forte.”
“So I’m learning.”
Silence falls between us, but it’s not uncomfortable.
“Okay, you want a better answer? Before meeting you, night out, always a night out. The more alcohol and willing bodies the better.” I sense him cringe at his own words, but it doesn’t stop him. “But now, I’d willingly trade all of that for a night on your sofa.”
I’m totally lost for words, and when he glances over at me, his eyes dark and hungry, it doesn’t make it any better.
“Pull over or keep driving?”
“Huh, what?”
“Pull over or keep driving?” he repeats slowly. His hand creeps up a little higher on my thigh, and I gasp when his little finger grazes against my core.
Closing my eyes, I rest my head back and try to focus, to attempt to find my sanity that seems to fly out of the window whenever he’s around.
“Keep driving,” I whisper. It sounds unconvincing.
“Really?” His voice is deep and gravelly, and it hits exactly where he intends. My clit throbs as my body temperature increases another notch.
“Really.” When I pull my eyelids open, a sign showing how close we are appears in front of me. I might be all for exploring my wild side, but I’m not sure that goes as far as getting caught for indecent exposure.
Attempting to direct the topic of conversation onto something else before I change my mind, I rack my brain for another question. The silence becomes suffocating; the only thing I’m aware of is his large, imposing body next to me and his manly scent permeating the air. I crack the window slightly despite it being bitterly cold outside.
“Marmite or peanut butter?”
“Pft, Marmite, every day of the fucking week.”
“Thank god. I might have made you turn the car back if you answered that wrong.”
“Salt and vinegar or cheese and onion?”
Our this and that game continues until he brings the van to a stop outside a huge Tudor building. It’s exactly the kind I imagined when I figured out where we were going, and the kind of place I could only dream of staying.
