Loved by a Roughneck

“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.”