Page 33 of Crossing the Line
He takes a step toward the door, gesturing with his head at the SUV. “PG, come on.”
I shake my head adamantly. “I’ll call Greg.”
He frowns. “Who’s Greg?”
“Our family’s driver. He likes it when I contact him and ask him to take me somewhere.”
Hercules’s head falls back as his face crashes into the most severe frown. “Does he want you or something?”
“No!” I exclaim, shocked that he would think that. “He’s known me since I was a little girl. He likes checking in. Seeing if I’m okay. And he always has words of advice. So if you’re worried about my safety, I’ll have Greg pick me up.” I wave my hands to shoo him out of the doughnut shop before I lose my nerve and crawl into the back seat of his SUV and spread my legs for him. “So, you go. I’ll be fine.”
I gulp when he shows me my favorite lopsided smirk. “You want to get rid of me, PG?”
My eyes grow and then retract. I lick my lips, wondering if I should just say it. He’s waiting for my response.
“It’s just…” I heave a sigh. “We’re working on a friendship, right?”
“Right…” There’s a leading quality to his tone.
“Well, right now…” I can’t believe I’m going to say this. I whisper, “Because right now, I don’t feel so friendly toward you, if you know what I mean. And that’s an SUV. And there’s plenty of room for us to cross that line.” My eyebrows flit up.
Hercules tosses his head back to grace me with a hearty laugh.Gosh, I could listen to him do that all day long.
He moves swiftly to close the distance between us. Then he wraps his arms around me. He’s hard in several places—his chest, his arms, and certainly his cock.
“What’s your number?” he says in my ear.
Through my tight throat, I tell him. Then he tells me his.
“It hasn’t changed,” I utter.
Hercules leans back to get a look at my face. “You remember my phone number?” He looks totally amused.
I’ll never forget it.
It’s still in my contacts list. But I’ll never tell him that. So I nod.
We’re lost in each other’s eyes. My lips crave a kiss. My tongue wants to taste his.
“Friends,” he says breathlessly and then spies something over my head and out the window. Hercules says he’ll call me later as he gusts to the exit. He points at me, standing in the doorway. “Don’t forget to call Greg. Call him, PG.”
“I will,” I say, and I mean it.
Hercules nods and gives the extra doughnuts to a man who appears homeless. Then he reaches into his pocket, peels off bills from his money clip, and hands him cash too. He does that as if it is nothing to him, like he does it every day, all the time. The guy watches the SUV in awe as Hercules gets in and it peels away from the curb.
