“I’m sorry.” His voice is low and remorseful—or is that just wishful thinking on my part?
“And that makes it all right?” I understand he was upset, and he had every right to be, but I’m not his verbal punching bag. When he opens his mouth to respond, I cut him off. I’m not done. “Cars get flat tires, and I didn’t deserve to be yelled at or mistreated. Now, I’d like you to please get out of my car. This is where we part ways.”
He sighs, running his hand through his wild locks as he steps out of the car. I’m forced to step back if I don’t want him right on me. Standing less than three inches from me, he tugs on my shoulder, halting my retreat. My body reacts to our proximity, tingles spreading through me.
I tilt my head back to gaze directly into his face. In the faint glow of the interior light, I make out his bottomless blue eyes, and they’re searching my face, searching for something.
“I’m sorry. I was a jerk. Totally out of line. Would you please let me ride with you?”
“You’ve got anger issues,” I blurt out, unable to hold back my criticism.
Giving me a faint smile, he nods. “Yeah, I do. I’m working on it, but obviously, I’m doing a piss-poor job.”
“That’s for sure,” I retort. “Get in the passenger seat, let’s go. I’m tired, and I’m sure you’ll be glad to be rid of me as much as I will be of you.”
My words aren’t true. While his anger toward me hurt, I also like him. I’ve enjoyed his company, for the most part. This ride would have been a lot longer and lonelier had Silas not been here.
His eyebrows arch in surprise at my comment, but he remains silent and walks around the car. As the inside light fades, the grease smudge on his cheekbone catches my eye. Without hesitation, I reach for him, my finger wiping at his warm, smooth skin. He stills, a groan escaping his lips as I lick my thumb and try again. It’s then that my movements stutter. Oh, God. I smeared my spit on his cheek.
His eyes are now heavy-lidded as his hand wraps my wrist, stopping my movements. Our rapt gazes are fixed on each other. The silence is thick, the rapid thumping of my heart and my shallow breathing deafening.
Breaking the tenuous moment, he removes my hand from his face and places it on my lap. “Thanks, Mom,” he croaks, clearing his throat as he opens the glove box. “Is there any sanitizer or wipes?”
“Um, yes, here.” I hand him the small bottle. My voice is gravelly and strange, even to my ears.
What just happened? Instead of him being grossed out by having my saliva on his face, we had this weird, brief connection—but now it’s gone. I’m tired; I must have imagined it.
We slip back into silence and start driving. At first, the comfortable solitude doesn’t bother me, but the longer neither of us speaks, the more anxious I become.
Opening the peanut M&Ms, I put a few in my mouth. I’m not hungry, but I need something to do, like driving isn’t enough. I scour my mind for something to say, something to fill the silence and put us back into comfortable conversation, but as fate would have it, another disaster unfolds.
The car slows, sputtering and shuddering. Honestly, I can’t believe this. Why is this happening? Having no clue what’s wrong, I pull over and the engine dies, plunging us into darkness.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.” I flip on my phone flashlight and try to figure out what’s wrong.
It only takes seconds, and once I guess at the cause, nausea overwhelms me. My stomach twists as bile climbs up my tight throat. Silas is going to lose his shit.
“We’re out of gas,” I whisper, staring at the gas tank indicator. Without a doubt, that’s the issue.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He slams both hands flat onto the dashboard.
I shriek and jump at his outburst. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Guilt coils in the pit of my stomach.
I’m one hundred percent responsible; I should have filled the tank when we stopped at the gas station. Instead, I was so caught up in my road trip partner that my brain left the building.
“That’s painfully obvious. Do you ever think?” Snatching my phone, he taps on the screen. “Dammit, no signal. We gotta call a local garage or something.” His furious glare causes a sharp jerk in my chest.
Shrinking into my seat, I wish I could disappear. I bite down on my lower lip, trying to stop the trembling as the sting in my eyes and throat intensifies. Tears course down my face. Holding my breath, I struggle to stem my tears and get myself under control.
It’s not only Silas and his nasty words that have brought my weeping on; it’s the culmination of the past two weeks—shit, the past few years—squeezing at my heart, shredding my pride. The growing pressure in my head forces me to gulp for air.
“Fuck, seriously?” His harsh tone and apparent disdain jabs at me as I fall apart.
“Fuck off,” I scream. “Get the hell out of here.”
He jerks back as I lunge at him with my fists flying, aiming for any part of his body I can reach—his hard pecs, his defined biceps, his strong jaw. With each hit, he grunts, commanding me to stop. His hands cuff my wrists, bringing them together toward my chest. Yanking me to him, one arm around my back and the other tucked between us, he secures my fists.
I slump and burrow into him, sobbing at how pathetic my life is. For once, why can’t luck be on my side? Why can’t things go my way?
His hold is firm, his inviting masculine scent soothing. My rapid breaths and the pounding of my heart steady with the security of his warm embrace, despite the ache of his rotten words.
“Shh,” he soothes, rubbing small circles on my back. “I’m sorry, I really am. We’re royally screwed, aren’t we?”
He loosens his hold at my push, his soft beard brushing my forehead and a few strands of my hair catch. As we disentangle ourselves, he laughs, releasing my hands.
“I’m sorry.” My lips wobble as I flatten my hands on his solid upper body.
“Shh,” he murmurs, his finger gently touching my lips.
His rumble vibrates from his chest into my palms and down to my belly. My tongue darts out, grazing his finger on my mouth. Blinking back the dampness in my vision, I sigh at the tangy flavor of his flesh, shuddering as I swallow the taste of him.
His hand moves to cup my cheek, each sweep of his thumb eliciting quivers along my spine. His lips land on mine, sharp and hungry. His beard tickles, intensifying the tingles from within. Sliding his hand to cup the back of my neck, with a squeeze, he pulls me nearer. My eyelids flutter closed.
Lost to the sensation of his tongue licking my lips, I moan into his mouth. His arm tightens around me, his fingers dig into my hip, and I don’t want to ever come up for air. I could stay like this forever, lips locked with Silas Palmer—not the famous rock star or the irate man, but sweet, sexy Silas who’s sucking on my tongue like candy.