Slide(Boosted Hearts Book 3)(22)
No fucking way.
If the nail polish wasn’t enough of a giveaway, she’d been wearing the same color at Abella’s. He only had to look at that shapely leg to know who he’d find attached to it. Adam fisted the sleeping bag and dragged it away. Lucy lay on her back, hair in a tangle around her face, mouth open, eyes closed—sleeping like a baby.
He actually looked around him like this was some kind of bad joke or a dream. No, a goddamn nightmare. What the fuck was going on? All he could do was stare at her, mind scrambling, trying to work out what in the hell she was doing in the backseat of his cousin’s car. He wasn’t having much luck. How could he think past those tiny fucking cut-off shorts? Lucy wasn’t tall—she barely reached his shoulder—but her legs seemed to go for fucking miles. His dirty mind instantly imagined them wrapped around his waist, supple thighs warm and smooth against his hips while he powered into her.
He grabbed her ankle, gave it a tug.
Her eyes popped open and she blinked once, twice. Finally, her gaze slid to him, and instead of looking guilty, she lifted a hand and gave him a finger wave. “Hey.”
Hey? He growled. “That’s what you’re going to say to me? Really?”
She sat up, cheeks flushed, a crease down one side from the upholstery—which for some reason seemed fucking adorable—and shoved her hair back from her face. “You know, it’s surprisingly comfortable back here. I haven’t slept that good in ages.”
Adam was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and that was what came out of her mouth? The woman was acting like there was nothing unusual about this situation whatsoever. He crossed his arms so he didn’t reach out and strangle her. “That’s awesome. Really. I’m thrilled that you’re rested. Now you wanna tell me what in the fuck you’re doing in my car?”
She yawned and rubbed a hand over her face blinking those big green eyes up at him. “Yours? I thought we were dropping it off to someone?”
We? Excellent. Of all the times to pop wood. There was something mentally wrong with him. “It’s my cousin’s car. I’m taking it back. It was stolen.” He shook his head like a cartoon character after being brained by an anvil. “Answer the damn question, Lucy.”
“What am I doing here?” She slid forward and climbed out beside him. “How far out of LA are we?”
He ground his teeth. “Seven hours.”
“Awesome.”
“Lucy,” he growled.
She smiled. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Enlighten me.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Then she grinned wider, from ear to motherfucking ear. “You’re what? What are you doing?” he choked out.
“I needed to get out of town for a bit, so thought I’d tag along.”
“Tag along?”
“It’ll be fun.”
“Fun?”
“Why do you keep repeating everything I say?”
His brain was about to explode, just blow the hell up, gray matter everywhere. “Because nothing you’ve said so far makes any kind of sense.”
She leaned against the car, slid her hands into the pockets of her teeny tiny shorts, and, squinting against the rising sun, stared up at him. “What aren’t you getting?”
“Any of it,” he ground out.
She lifted her arms in the air. “‘Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, healthy, free, the world before me, the long brown path before me leading wherever I choose’…”
Christ. “What?”
She grinned and dropped her arms. “It’s a poem by Walt Whitman.”
What in the hell was going on?
But suddenly nothing would come out of his mouth. All he could do was stare at the way the sun cast her in a yellow-orange glow, making her already tanned skin damn near shimmer. She looked like a sun goddess. Hair dark and wild, glossy. Eyes bright, flecks of gold that he’d never known were there breaking through the green. He knew if he was pressed against her, her skin would be warm, and that spot between her neck and shoulder more so. God, the skin there would feel soft against his lips. She’d smell amazing there, too. He knew it instinctively. Lucy had the most drugging scent of any woman he’d ever met, and that sexy little spot would be the source of it.
She tilted her head to the side, exposing more of her slender neck, and her lips lifted in a little smirk as she ran her hand over the very spot he’d been fantasizing about.
“Do I have grease on me or something?”
Lucy needed to go home. Now. “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but you’re not coming with me.”