Should she do it?
He opened the door, waiting for her with an expectant expression on his face and she didn’t even think, just climbed into the car and slid across the soft leather seat. He got in after her and pulled the door shut. He was so close she could feel his body heat and his scent surrounded her, making her dizzy.
“Where to, boss?” The driver was smiling at the two of them as he gazed into the rearview mirror.
“Where do you live?” Handsome man’s golden eyes met hers and she couldn’t help but suck in a quick breath at the heat she saw there.
“Emeryville.” In a hellhole apartment with a bitchy roommate she worked with, but she didn’t bother sharing those little details with him.
He whistled low. “Going across the Bay Bridge this time of night ought to be an adventure.”
“You said it, man.” The driver shook his head as he put the car into drive and pulled out onto the street.
“You don’t have to give me a ride if it’s any trouble. I can find another way home.” She felt kind of bad making him go all the way out to where she lived.
He shook his head. “Trust me, I don’t mind. Now why don’t I look at your ankle and make sure it’s okay?”
She blinked once, twice. He wanted to put his hands on her? She didn’t know if she’d be able to take it. “What exactly do you want me to do?”
“Let me see your ankle. I’ll be able to tell if it’s sprained or not.” He patted his thigh, indicating exactly where he wanted her ankle to be.
Holding her dress down at the knees, she lifted her leg and rested her sandaled foot on his muscular thigh. It was hard beneath the fabric of his pants and so very warm. His big hands wrapped around her ankle, his fingers probing gently and she winced. It still hurt a little bit, not that she was complaining about his touching her.
“What’s your name?”
“Huh?” His quiet question didn’t quite penetrate her foggy brain. She was too enraptured watching his long, tanned fingers touch her, gently stroking her skin. His touch felt amazing, his calloused fingertips sending tingles skittering throughout her body.
“Your name?” He glanced up and his gaze met hers. “And your ankle is a little swollen but I don’t think it’s sprained.”
“Oh. Good to know.” She paused and he waited, his fingers still stroking her skin though they moved away from her ankle. Yeah, now they were sliding up to her calf. “Stephanie. My name is Stephanie.”
“Nice to meet you, Stephanie.” He reached toward the door and pushed a button on the armrest. The tinted glass partition that separated the back seat from the front slowly slid up, cutting them off from the driver. “I think you’re going to live.”
She laughed, thankful she’d shaved her legs this morning, and his fingers curved around her ankle, cradling it when he reached for her shoe.
“Mind if I take this off?”
“Only if you tell me your name.” The flirtation came easy, the situation that much more intimate with just the two of them in such close quarters. His hands were on her, her foot nestled in his lap and she didn’t even know his name.
He paused, seeming reluctant to say it which she found weird. “Justin.” He watched her, as if waiting for a reaction and all she could do was smile.
“Nice to meet you, too, Justin.”
She watched as he slipped her shoe off. It dropped onto the floorboard with a heavy thump and then his fingers were kneading the sole of her foot.
His touch felt so good she wanted to moan. She wanted to close her eyes and really enjoy it but she thought that might be a bit much. His thumb did slow, sweeping circles, pushing on the bottom of her foot and she curled her toes. Her skin tightened, grew hot and flushed and she shrugged out of his jacket, setting it next to her.
If he could make her foot feel this good then what about everywhere else? She almost shivered in anticipation.
* * *
She didn’t recognize him. Justin nearly breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was a simpering fan raving on and on about how great he was and how sad she was that he didn’t play anymore. He didn’t need the strokes and he wasn’t in the mood. He was never in the mood for that bullshit anymore.
No, he preferred stroking this woman instead. He liked the way she sat in the corner of her seat, the full skirt of her dress resting primly against her knees with her foot in his lap. Those sexy red toenails wiggled and waved at him and her foot shifted against his thigh with every press of his fingers and thumb.
If she shifted just a bit higher, her toes would brush against his engorged cock. Just the thought of that made him grow another inch.
This was going to be a long night.