“Can I drive?” I ask, rubbing my hands together like an evil genius who just hatched a
plan.
West appraises me for a moment before laughing. “That’d be a hell no.”
“Why?”
“This car’s got a lot of power.” He leans back against the passenger door smirking.
“Yup, sure does.”
“And you think you can handle it?”
Scoffing, I say, “I know I can.”
One of the many things AJ and I bonded over when we became friends was our love of cars; while she prefers old, American muscle, I lust over supercars. Either way, she and I both like to go fast—really fucking fast. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those misogynistic assholes that think women can’t drive?”
“Not at all. I’m just territorial about my car.” A calculating glint shines in his blue eyes. “Give me one good reason I should let you behind the wheel of my baby.”
“I’ve wanted to drive one of these ever since it completed a lap of the Nürburgring Nordschleife track in just over seven minutes. You do realize you own the seventh fastest street legal vehicle, right?” I step into him, pressing my front to his, my hands roaming over the hard planes of his chest. “No lie, the
thought of handling it gets my panties…”
I trail off and West gulps, sliding his arms around me, tugging me impossibly closer. “Gets your panties what?” His voice is rough and gritty, rubbing over my libido the same way a stubbled jaw would my skin.
Bring my ears to his lips, I whisper, “Wet. It gets them wet.”
“Fuck,” he groans, every bit of his longing plain for me to hear—and feel, judging by the
bulge pressing into my belly. “She’s all yours.”
I step back from him, a smug, victorious smile plastered to my face. “I knew you’d come
around.”
Book Loving Pixies 