CHAPTER 22

SCOTT

Me: Do u have plans this morning?

Her: Why? Miss me already?

Me: Duh!

Crap! I don’t want her thinking that sex is all I’m after.

Me: But that’s not why I’m asking.

Crap! I also don’t want her thinking I’m not interested.

Me: Wait. Was that an offer?

Me: Shit! Never mind.

Her: Cracking up over here.

Her: Scott, did u want to take me somewhere?

Me: Yes. Heading to pick up those helmets. Care to join me?

Her: I’d love to. Give me 5 to change.

Five minutes later, I’m standing outside her door. She answers wearing skinny jeans and another one of those sexy-as-hell tank thingies like she wore in Chicago. It looks great on her, and I love that she wears it without a bra, because, hello… But the holes under her arms are cut low. I mean really, really low. Her boobs may be small, but they’re still a nice handful, and this shirt shows enough side boob to a) Make me want to bury my head under her shirt and tease the shit out of her perky nipples with my tongue, and b) Give other men the same fucking idea.

“You know you could have saved yourself some time and just come over here to begin with.” She laughs happily.

Her boobs look even better in that shirt when she laughs.

“Yeah, well, we’ve been together for the past four days. I was trying to give you a break,” I answer, still scowling at her shirt.

Her hand goes to her hip and the movement gives me a fantastic glimpse of what’s hiding behind the flimsy material. “You getting tired of me already, Rivers?

“No,” I grumble, unable to take my eyes off that fucking piece of dental floss she’s walking around in. “I just didn’t want to bother you.”

She steps forward and lifts both my arms, guiding them around her middle. “But I love it when you bother me.” Sensing my sour mood, she cups my face in her hand and traces her thumb over my scruff. I was planning to shave it off but, the other night, she sang its praises while my head was between her thighs.

Need I say more?

“You seem a little tense? Everything okay?”

I run my hands up her sides, intentionally brushing up against her breasts with my thumbs. Her breath hitches and she arches into me. “This what you’re wearing?” I crush my mouth against hers, claiming her lips with every nip and tug of my teeth.

“Uh huh,” she breathes against my lips before coming back for more of what I’m giving her. She slides her hands under my shirt to rake her nails down my back. She teases her pelvis over mine in the most sensual way. “Is that a problem?”

I drag my knuckles up and down her sides before covering each breast and kneading them between my fingers. “These are mine.” She mews and coos at my touch, and when I flick a nail over the hardened peaks, she curses softly. “I don’t want everyone seeing what’s mine.”

“I’m not changing,” she murmurs against my lips. “Besides, I’m wearing it for you. I know how much it bothers you.”

“There you go, bothering me again,” I groan into her mouth. My hands get lost in her hair as I make slow, sweet love to her mouth. When we come up for air, I’m still grumpy about the damn shirt, and by now I’m packing a raging boner that I don’t have time to attend to. If the last four days have taught me anything, I’ve learned that there’s no such thing as a quick fuck with this woman. Not that I’m complaining. Hell to the no. But I need to get to Wicked Saves before five o’clock to pick up the helmets Gary has waiting for me. Port Huron is an hour away, which means I should have left fifteen minutes ago. Guess the shirt’s staying on.

For now, anyway.

SKYLAR

The helmets turned out amazing. Better than Scott ever expected. He pays the guy at the shop and thanks him for getting them done so quickly. We’ve almost made it back to the apartment when he informs me he’ll be dropping me off but will be home a little later.

“You’re not coming in with me?” I make a pouty face. “I thought we were going to pick up where we left off earlier?”

“Believe me, that’s exactly where I want to be. But right now, I have someplace else I need to be.” He reaches across the console to thread our fingers together. “I promised Coach I’d drop these helmets off tonight. I’ll run in and drop them off then make it back here before you know it.”

We pull up in front of our building, and I turn to stare up at my temporary residence. Throughout my stay, I’ve spent more time in his apartment than my own. I love his apartment, because when I’m there, I look around and see him everywhere. His apartment is warm and inviting and smells like him. The thought of going up to a cold apartment that smells of paint and new carpet is definitely less appealing.

“Do you mind if I wait for you in your apartment?” I meet his knowing eyes, and his only response is to pull a key from his keychain, place it in my open palm, and close my fist around it.

“I’ll be back in an hour. Be ready for me.” He gives me a quick kiss before I get out of the car and watch him pull away.

There was no need to explain my reasons for not wanting to go back to my place; Scott has already told me he likes coming home to find me there. What’s really scary is that I actually had a dream last night where he asked me to stay in Detroit with him. Although the dream was pretty amazing and left me with a lot of feelings to sort through, in no way do I expect that kind of commitment from Scott. Not this soon. I completely understand that. But when I woke up this morning, I found myself wondering if we really do have a future, or have we somehow gotten caught up trying to recreate the past?

I stop by my place first to grab my toothbrush and a change of clothes. It may be presumptuous to assume that I’ll be sleeping over, but if the last few nights are any indication, I think I’ll be okay. I grab my laptop and camera bag, because I need some way to pass the time before he returns home; might as well go through some of the photos I’ve taken so far. I also need to type up my recorded notes from my interview with Brantley.

I’m on my way out the door, hands completely full, when I glance down at the floor by the front door and see my rubber boots. My subconscious gives herself an inner fist pump for the idea she’s just placed inside my head.