Page 22 of My Captive's Heart
And older. I’d say in his mid-thirties.
Stopping a respectable distance from me, he towers over me. The brown plaid button-down shirt molds to his broad chest and muscular biceps—as thick as my thigh. His upper body tapers into a lean waist, while his legs are encased in dark and frayed denim.
“Are you all right?”
His rough and husky voice is a perfect combination of masculine and mesmerizing. My tongue thickens inside my mouth as I try to form a reply.
Glancing at my car, he finds the answer for himself. When he fixes those blue orbs on mine, I suppress a shiver. He notices, though, dragging his gaze down my body. His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring before he locks in his expression.
I follow his stare.
Heat zaps to my cheeks at the state of my white tank top clinging indecently to my breasts and stomach. It has ridden up, leaving my midriff exposed.
Shifting nervously on my feet, I peek at my rugged savior’s face. It’s molten with unbidden lust, which he quickly masks. Almost appearing angry.
Wait… Is he finding me as attractive as I find him?
My core clenches.
Since when did quiet older men become my type?
He clears his throat. “Don’t have a spare tire?”
I shake my head.
“Would you like me to call you a tow truck…”
“M-Molly.”
“Molly,” he repeats, like he’s trying to decipher how it tastes on his tongue. “How long have you been stranded here?”
“Not long…”
“Alexander.”
Holy moly.
Of course he has a panty-melting name.
“Thank you for stopping,” I rasp, absently pressing a hand to my belly. “Yes, please. I’d appreciate it if you could call a tow truck. I couldn’t get a signal on my phone.”
Nodding, he takes out his phone and presses it to his ear after dialing the number. Even his profile is drool-worthy as he looks the other way. I barely pay attention to his conversation until he sighs in dejection and hangs up.
“They’re short-staffed and won’t be able to come for at least a couple of hours,” he informs me.
“Crap.” Tucking a strand behind my ear, I reply, “Well… thanks for trying. I’ll let you be on your way.”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“You’re n-not?”
“No, Molly.” He sounds almost offended that I would even ask that. Pocketing his phone, he probes, “Where are you off to?”
“Sun Valley.”
His gaze flashes, looking pleased. “I can give you a lift.”
“No, that’s okay…”
