Page 44 of Beautiful Envy

“You okay?” he asked, turning off the truck.

“Me, yeah? Why?” I asked in a rush.

“You’re quiet. It’s not like you to be quiet.”

“Oh, um. Just thinking about my bike,” I lied. “Can we start on it now?”

He stared at me, his jaw ticking. “Not today. I need to run to the shop.”

“Fine. I’ll go with.” Smiling at his frown. I knew he was trying to get away from me, but he’d have to be rude to deny me now. Bubba might be stubborn, but he was a gentleman.

“I’m leaving now,” he barked, attempting to shake me.

“Okay.”

I grinned, showing teeth. “Truck or your bike?”

His eyes searched mine for a beat before he looked at the truck. I felt he’d pick his bike after being locked up in this cage all day.

“Bike.”

Nodding, I opened the door and hopped down, heading straight for it. There was no way I’d let him leave me. Taking the helmet I often used, I put it on and waited for him to walk over.

His steps were slow, almost debating if he really wanted to go through with this. Handing him his helmet, I watched as he accepted his fate and placed it on his head.

I felt him tense as I climbed on, a smile spreading at his reaction. Squeezing my arms around him, I ran my hands up his legs before locking them into position. His breath halted, then slowly released.

I never knew torture could be so fun.

When we got onto the open road, I threw my hands up, letting out a shout of glee as he opened it up. Before the turn, I moved my arms back, slowly running them up his thighs again, deliberately brushing against his groin in the process.

I was playing dirty at this point, but I’d had enough. I moved my hands, running them along his body each time we slowed. Bubba was a rigid block of muscle by the time we pulled into the shop. The lot was empty, so I was surprised when he pulled around to the back to park.

He climbed off his bike so quickly I’d worry he had the runs if I hadn’t been stroking him the whole ride. He didn’t even take off his helmet, just wore it inside.

Chuckling, I took my time and placed my helmet on the handlebars as I followed him into the shop. It was dark; no one else was here this time on a Sunday.

The door to the office slammed, the sound reverberating through the quiet space. Locking the big door behind me, I crept through the darkness, familiar with the layout by now. I placed my ear against the door, listening.

I should probably feel bad, but the time for us to face this had finally come.

With that thought, I pushed open the door to find Bubba sitting in the chair, his elbows on the desk as he took in deep lungfuls. His eyes were closed, a pained look on his bearded face.

“Don’t,” he growled as I stepped closer.

Ignoring him, I walked to the front of the desk, bracing my hands on the surface as I faced off with him.

“Why do you always push me away?” I asked, my anger leaking through.

His eyes opened, searing me with their heat. He scowled, bringing goosebumps to my skin. This was it. The line I needed to push him over. It was now or never.

“Do you really need to ask yourself that, little girl?”

The slur hit, igniting the fire and rage that was ready to be released.

“Yeah, I do. Because if you took a moment to pull your head out of your ass, you’d see that I’m the furthest thing from a little girl. Men have told me what I could be and who I was my whole life. At first, I thought it meant I was special. But I soon learned it was just a way for men to make me weak so they could take whatever they wanted from me. My virtue. My home. My trust. Gone.” I slapped the desk, my eyes spitting daggers back at him now.

He swallowed, some of his anger dropping away at my remarks.

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