Spitfire in Love (Chasing Red 3)
He was smiling.
“The accessories I want cost a couple grand,” he said through the crack in the window I hadn’t closed.
Goddamn it. I threw him the nastiest glare I could manage and unlocked the door. He got in, a smug look on his irritatingly handsome face.
I gritted my teeth, contemplating the cost of paying his insurance company instead, the premiums in Dylan’s insurance, the negatives in his credit. Besides, how bad would it be if Dylan spent some time in jail? He could use the time to reflect.
The spawn of Satan closed the window. As if he owned the car, he lowered the back of the seat—lower than I had it before—and relaxed back into it. He closed his eyes.
“Like I said the other night,” he said lazily, “you drive me fucking crazy.”
He didn’t sound too bothered by it.
“I don’t want to drive you anything,” I said. The last thing I wanted to remember was that night. “Just to your destination, thank you very fucking much.”
His lips twitched. Cool as a cucumber.
The one thing that pissed me off more when I was already pissed off was when the person I was supposed to be pissed off with wasn’t as pissed off as me.
“You can take a picture of me if you like,” he said easily, opening his eyes and catching me looking at him. “Or you can drive me to my destination.”
“I’ll drive you to your final destination, all right.”
He replied by closing his eyes and laughing softly.
I gritted my teeth and stepped on the gas.
I was painfully aware of him sleeping lightly beside me. He crossed his arms across his chest. Probably protecting his stone-cold heart from the ancient, cursed dagger that I wanted to bury in there.
But I couldn’t resist glancing at him. He was like a black panther in the jungle. Too beautiful to ignore. Sleek and dangerous. Even when he looked relaxed, there was an edge to him that kept my gaze coming back.
I released a sigh of relief when I saw the campus sign.
“I’m parking on the street,” I said. “I can’t afford to pay the campus parking.”
He shifted his wide frame, adjusting his seat so he could sit up straight. The top of his head grazed the roof of the car.
“I got it,” he said. “Just drive us to school.”
“What do you mean, you got it? You’re paying for parking?”
He shrugged.
“Do you know how much parking is on this campus?” I asked. It cost a fortune.
“I don’t want to walk a couple of blocks just to go to school,” he drawled.
I threw him a quick glance from top to bottom. If he was this lazy, where did he get all those muscles from? They must be silicone. That was why they felt big and hard. They didn’t…feel like silicone though. They felt real and warm and good. I kinda wanted to feel them again…
No you don’t!
“Really,” I croaked, erasing the memories that started to bombard my mind.
I found it hard to believe that walking a couple of blocks would bother an athletic guy. What I knew for sure was that he always had an ulterior motive. What was it this time? What would it cost me? He had another reason he was hiding.
“I’ll pay for gas too.”
Now that was really shady… I stopped at a red light and threw him a suspicious look. “And you’re doing all this because you don’t want to walk a couple of blocks?”