impulse. They were damn lucky to be getting along as well as they did. They didn’t know each other—other than carnally, she thought with a private grin.
Give him time. Let it go.
“How about I go wait in the car. You pick something out for me. A surprise.”
“Oh? Like what?”
Moment of truth time. She’d trusted him this far. He could very well do a one-eighty and pick a sex toy she couldn’t go through with using. Despite the brief dip in his mood, he was still the same guy.
“Your choice, Ryan. Anything you want.”
Chapter Seven
In the tiny hallway that led to the parking lot, Ryan took a half second to gather his thoughts. A red-striped bag dangled from his grip. The sound system kicked back on—System of a Down this time, and of course the song was “Violent Pornography”. He shot a glare at the clerk, but she only crossed her arms on the counter and smirked.
He shook it off. Everybody fucks, indeed.
Not everybody lucked into an amazing one. That it had been so… out there was only an accident. A lightning-fast twist of fate—not the type of thing a guy kept up for a lifetime. If it weren’t for the black-and-white outfit wrapped in tissue paper, Ryan might believe that.
Do it or don’t, Fang.
Cassandra grinned at him as he opened the car door. “Where to?”
He tossed the bag in the back and wedged himself into the passenger seat. “First, the steakhouse.”
“Oh.” Her smile faltered, but she turned the ignition anyway.
“Hey,” he said, curling a hand around her jaw and forcing her to look at him. He made himself grin. She seemed to like it when he was friendly and funny. Not that he could blame her. This was a night outside reality. She didn’t need to know how indulging in something so sordid and carnal went against his every carefully hoarded scruple.
He’d worked damned hard to make a life that wasn’t trashy. Getting busted by some smirk-faced sex-shop clerk didn’t figure in the picture.
“I said ‘first’, didn’t I?”
She huffed out a laugh, but it was enough to blow away the tension. “Yes, you did.”
The ride back to her work was filled with quiet teasing. As if by agreement, neither of them said anything about the red-striped bag on the rear seat. Ryan didn’t miss how her gaze flicked to the rearview mirror as if she were trying to see inside. Hell, he knew what was in there and he felt like turning around to poke, if only to make sure he hadn’t lost his mind. He’d actually, really bought that for a woman he’d just met.
In a way, that made it easier. If Cassandra assumed he was a freak, he had less to lose. Not nothing, because he already found her fascinating. The chance she’d think badly of him wouldn’t ever be as bad as losing Ashleigh. The disgust in her voice… All of her respect and love, simply gone .
Finally Cassandra pulled into the lot, and he pointed at his extended cab F-150. It was one of the only vehicles left in the lot, except for what looked to be a catering van at the far end and a shiny BMW two spots down.
She giggled as she put the car in park. “You know, I’m not surprised you drive a big truck. It fits.”
He took a hold of the end of one of her braids. She was raggedy, with reddish locks slipping out to frame her face, but it only added to her appeal. She looked like she’d been screwed to the high heavens. He couldn’t help but feel damn proud of that.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re so All-American. The guy next door. Suburbia and tailgate parties.”
That was sort of what he’d been shooting for. All his life—everything he’d grown up without. Everything he still worked so hard to protect.
“Except for where I bang dirty Goth girls in dressing rooms,” he said tightly.
“Except for that.”
Her smile went so wide that he had to taste it. Just like that, all the air stripped out of the compact, replaced with their hot panting. A tiny halo of condensation circled the windshield.
Ryan pulled
Give him time. Let it go.
“How about I go wait in the car. You pick something out for me. A surprise.”
“Oh? Like what?”
Moment of truth time. She’d trusted him this far. He could very well do a one-eighty and pick a sex toy she couldn’t go through with using. Despite the brief dip in his mood, he was still the same guy.
“Your choice, Ryan. Anything you want.”
Chapter Seven
In the tiny hallway that led to the parking lot, Ryan took a half second to gather his thoughts. A red-striped bag dangled from his grip. The sound system kicked back on—System of a Down this time, and of course the song was “Violent Pornography”. He shot a glare at the clerk, but she only crossed her arms on the counter and smirked.
He shook it off. Everybody fucks, indeed.
Not everybody lucked into an amazing one. That it had been so… out there was only an accident. A lightning-fast twist of fate—not the type of thing a guy kept up for a lifetime. If it weren’t for the black-and-white outfit wrapped in tissue paper, Ryan might believe that.
Do it or don’t, Fang.
Cassandra grinned at him as he opened the car door. “Where to?”
He tossed the bag in the back and wedged himself into the passenger seat. “First, the steakhouse.”
“Oh.” Her smile faltered, but she turned the ignition anyway.
“Hey,” he said, curling a hand around her jaw and forcing her to look at him. He made himself grin. She seemed to like it when he was friendly and funny. Not that he could blame her. This was a night outside reality. She didn’t need to know how indulging in something so sordid and carnal went against his every carefully hoarded scruple.
He’d worked damned hard to make a life that wasn’t trashy. Getting busted by some smirk-faced sex-shop clerk didn’t figure in the picture.
“I said ‘first’, didn’t I?”
She huffed out a laugh, but it was enough to blow away the tension. “Yes, you did.”
The ride back to her work was filled with quiet teasing. As if by agreement, neither of them said anything about the red-striped bag on the rear seat. Ryan didn’t miss how her gaze flicked to the rearview mirror as if she were trying to see inside. Hell, he knew what was in there and he felt like turning around to poke, if only to make sure he hadn’t lost his mind. He’d actually, really bought that for a woman he’d just met.
In a way, that made it easier. If Cassandra assumed he was a freak, he had less to lose. Not nothing, because he already found her fascinating. The chance she’d think badly of him wouldn’t ever be as bad as losing Ashleigh. The disgust in her voice… All of her respect and love, simply gone .
Finally Cassandra pulled into the lot, and he pointed at his extended cab F-150. It was one of the only vehicles left in the lot, except for what looked to be a catering van at the far end and a shiny BMW two spots down.
She giggled as she put the car in park. “You know, I’m not surprised you drive a big truck. It fits.”
He took a hold of the end of one of her braids. She was raggedy, with reddish locks slipping out to frame her face, but it only added to her appeal. She looked like she’d been screwed to the high heavens. He couldn’t help but feel damn proud of that.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re so All-American. The guy next door. Suburbia and tailgate parties.”
That was sort of what he’d been shooting for. All his life—everything he’d grown up without. Everything he still worked so hard to protect.
“Except for where I bang dirty Goth girls in dressing rooms,” he said tightly.
“Except for that.”
Her smile went so wide that he had to taste it. Just like that, all the air stripped out of the compact, replaced with their hot panting. A tiny halo of condensation circled the windshield.
Ryan pulled
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