“I’m plenty of things, but a liar’s never been one of them.”
“I doubt a liar would tell me he was one.”
“Are you questioning my integrity?” He lifted an eyebrow.
She snorted. “Maybe. How about we play a game of twenty questions?”
“What do I win?”
“If you’re a good boy … those two weeks you wanted.”
His hands clenched the steering wheel tighter. “Why?”
“Does it matter?”
Yes. “No, let’s start the game.”
“Why be a roughneck? It’s clear to me you have a brain rattling around in your skull. So why choose back-breaking labor?”
“To get away.” His jaw ticked. He’d wanted to avoid telling her his sob story for a while.
“Are you a criminal?”
“No, just a man who had a bad streak of luck.” He paused, waited for her to dig at the opening he’d given her.
“Fair enough. How old are you.”
“Thirty-five.”
“How long have you wanted to fuck me?”
He choked on air, coughing.
“Too blunt?”
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“No, I like them that way.” Amused, he smirked.
“Good. Now answer the question.”
“From the minute I laid eyes on you.”
She gasped. “So why wait until now?” The breathy tone made his muscles flex. A wave of desire flooded him, and he growled in his throat.
“I didn’t want to.”
“Want to what, Ty?”
“Want you. I tried to fight it.”
“Because I’m black?”
He chuckled. “No, because you’re too young, and I’m fucked up.”
“I’m twenty-one, not sixteen.” She rolled her eyes. “Are you into weird shit?”
“No.”