Serving Trouble(25)

He glanced over at her, noting the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath the letters across her breasts. Her T-­shirt would go first, out the window. Then, he’d push her skirt up to her waist and draw her panties down her legs.

“Josie, there isn’t enough room in the cab of my truck for the things I want to do to you,” he murmured, surprising himself by saying the words out loud. He was so caught up in the mental picture of Josie’s legs spread and her breasts bared under the sunny Oregon sky. But she’d pressed, asking to see him for who he was now, not the man everyone else wanted him to be, and he didn’t want to hold back.

“I’m not asking for anything until I’ve proven that I have a lot more to offer than a kiss,” he added, shifting in his seat. His boxer briefs felt as if they were made of spandex. His dick begged for freedom, eager to greet her in the truck, on the side of the road—­anywhere.

She made a tsk-­tsk sound. “I thought you had abandoned chivalry. Pull over and we’ll draw straws to see who comes first.”

He let out a low laugh partly in response to her words, but mostly to keep himself from begging. Sure, sex—­oral or otherwise—­with a woman he shouldn’t touch made him an ass. But there were some lines he refused to cross. He was going down first and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

And that wasn’t chivalry. He was being practical. If she wrapped her full lips around him, and if he came in her sweet mouth, hell, he’d probably pass out. The picture racing through his imagination left him damn near dizzy. If she offered the real thing, here, now, she’d have to drive him home.

“Of course, the customers might complain if we don’t make it to the brewery to pick up the beer,” she added. “But it might be worth the risk.”

“Hell yeah.” He looked over at her and found her lips parted, her tongue darting out to lick them. She was so damn sexy, so beautiful . . .

He forced his attention back on the road, scanning the shoulder for a safe place to pull over. Wire fencing stretched for miles. The only houses were set back far enough the ­people inside would need binoculars to know what they were doing on the side of the road. Up ahead the road changed to dirt for a few miles before they hit pavement again. Here was better, less dusty. And he wanted her now.

He spotted a road sign up ahead listing the number of miles to the highway and the neighboring towns. He eased off the gas, his gaze fixed on the shoulder and his body taut with anticipation.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Josie’s arm crossing the console separating the passenger side from the driver’s seat. Her fingers brushed his thigh as if urging him on. Like he needed encouragement. He needed to focus and park the damn car before he reached for her. He needed—­

“Shit!” He slammed on the brakes and swerved off the road. His desire shut off as if someone had flipped a switch and his training kicked in, driving him to throw the truck into park.

“Noah?”

He heard the alarm in her voice. In his peripheral vision, he saw the hand she’d quickly withdrawn from his leg clutching the seat belt stretched across her chest.

“Stay here,” he ordered. “If I give the signal, drive away.”

“Wait. Noah, please.”

Not a chance. He opened his door. The need to act fact, to eliminate the threat, pulsed through him. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. And God only knew what was in the cardboard box at the base of the street sign.

He ran forward and dropped to his knees. His hands hovered over the open box, the realization sinking in that he was in Oregon, not Afghanistan. He couldn’t defuse a bomb out here. He wasn’t prepared to dismantle a roadside IED.

He blinked and peered into the box for the first time. He felt light-­headed and it had nothing to do with Josie’s mouth on his dick. The cardboard shifted and a soft mewing sound pulled him firmly back to reality.

“Fucking kittens.” He reached inside and picked one up. “Ah, hell.”

Dizzy from the rush of relief, he clutched the kitten to his chest and closed his eyes. It wasn’t an IED, just some jerk who’d seen a bunch of farms and decided to abandon a litter of kittens on the side of the road for some bleeding-­heart farmer to take home to their barn.

He heard the truck door slam, followed by the distinct click of Josie’s boots on pavement. But he didn’t open his eyes. She’d been ready and willing to get naked on the side of the road until he’d freaked out.

Because of a box of kittens.

Hero. Jerk. The labels didn’t apply. He was a fool. The bundle of fur in his hands sank its sharp teeth into his thumb, and he welcomed the prick of pain, anything to drive away the lingering traces of fear and his own embarrassment.