Jordan took the long way home, with the windows down and the stereo blaring. We both needed it, I think. Jordan to help scab over the wounds we’d ripped raw and me to settle into this new knowledge of who he was.
Who we were.
I played with the charm around my neck. I did it without any of the self-loathing I had before. He’d given me freedom, he was teaching me to love myself again and didn’t even realize it.
I studied him, from the muscles that ran up his shoulder and neck, to the sharp line of his jaw, and the strong high cheekbones. He was masculine and beautiful. I’d never had the freedom to study him, to watch him. I’d always been too afraid he’d catch me, that he’d know I was doing it. It was exciting. My arousal built. I knew now what his face looked like flushed with passion, how his lips tasted when they were swollen from kisses.
When I squirmed beside him on the bench seat, the corner of his mouth curled. “You make it really difficult to be a nice guy with you looking at me like that.”
The past two things he’d said to me had rendered me speechless. It was impressive.
“It’s okay to trust me,” he said as he turned down the radio.
“That’s not it.” I made a face. “I can’t think of anything to say when you say things like that.”
“Wow, Raelynn Casey speechless?” His face brightened in mock surprise.
I nudged him with my elbow. “Bite me.” The laugh died on my lips when I caught the heat in his eyes. There had never been another guy that could scramble up my thoughts with just a look.
I was still rattled by the punch of arousal when we pulled up to the red light outside The Rooster Barn. If you pictured the most sketchy, rundown hellhole of a bar in Texas and then thought worse…that would be The Rooster. The floors are sticky, the beer is hot, and the whiskey is watered down.
If you ever found yourself in The Rooster, don’t ask for ice because the machine hasn’t been cleaned since it was installed in 1977. The people who owned it were notorious white trash. The crowd that hung out there required extra hard-ass security guards. I’d only been inside once and vowed to never go back. Even with my brother and his friends, I still hadn’t been totally safe. I’d stick with Felt, Arkadia’s pool hall, any day of the week.
I sneered at it with distaste when an old, busted-up Trans-Am pulled into the lane beside us. There was a blower that stuck up a foot from the rusted hood. Which told me he probably paid more money for the motor than the car itself. Sleepers, we called them.
The driver was older, in his late thirties, and well into a six pack. Sleeper or no sleeper, he wasn’t a match for Jordan and the sixty-five. One look at Jordan and I could tell he knew it too.
The guy in the Trans-Am sneered at me and shouted over the engine he revved up. “Hey, hottie, sure you don’t want to ride with a real man?”
My sister would give me credit for not laughing outright. I did, however, visibly choke to keep the laugh at bay.
“Did that asswipe really say what I think he said?” Jordan’s face twisted up in a mixture of shock and disgust.
“Yeah.” I pursed my lips. It didn’t take a genius to see where this was going.
Leaning across my lap, Jordan gave the guy one of the most intimidating glares I’d ever seen. There was a revved engine in response, a cigarette still dangling from his bottom lip. It became obvious this guy wasn’t very smart. Jordan could rearrange his face with little effort.
“What was that?” Jordan’s hand slid between my legs and under the seat to turn on the nitrous bottle. “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of real power!”
As the other guy went to mouth off, Jordan’s right foot patted the gas pedal. The engine didn’t rev…it roared like an offended lion.
“To the next light.” Taking Jordan’s lead, I pointed ahead of us to the next intersection, shouting over the roar of eight cylinders. It was an eighth of a mile or slightly more. “Go on green, a hundred bucks if you beat us there.”
“You’re on, baby.” The Trans-Am driver gave a cigarette bouncing sneer.
The corners of Jordan’s mouth were having a hard time staying down. He lived for this, he loved it. I’d known since the first time I saw him behind the wheel of a vehicle.
The moment the anticipation of the race came over him like he was mainlining adrenaline, took my breath away. My earlier arousal was nothing compared to that. His eyes narrowed on the light as the cross directions turned yellow, and my mouth watered.
I gripped the seat under me.
On green, we were gone, my back plastered against the seat behind me with the rush of power. The Trans- Am never had a chance. I didn’t bother looking over to check who was in the lead or glance at the streetlights that passed. I looked right at Jordan. My entire body tingled with desire, every inch of me anxious for the strength of him. By the time we sailed through the red light, I was crawling all over him like a harlot.
There was trust, borne from our night together as well as years of friendship. But, there was something more. I’d dreamed about this moment with him for most of my life. This was the life I’d wanted, the one I’d dreamed of.
I was going to live it. I was free.
His skin was warm beneath my lips as I kissed his cheek, then down his jaw to his neck. The truck rumbled on the downshift. The heated look he gave me as I pulled away paired with the taste of him on my tongue, sent a shiver up my spine.
When the redneck finally caught up with us, his face was void of emotion. He held the bill out the window, not slowing at all.
Maybe it was that I trusted Jordan’s driving a little too much, maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through me making braver. Whatever it was, I stretched out the window and snatched the bill. With a smug grin, I slid back into my seat.
“Whoo!” I shouted once I was safely back inside, tucked against Jordan. “I haven’t felt this—alive—in a long time.”
“No.” Jordan shook his head when I tried to hand him the money. “Your bet, your win.”
I tucked the bill into my pocket. He was the reason I could feel like this. It was all Jordan’s making, every bit of it. I was happy, free, aroused, and warm.
He was watching me more than he was watching the road, but I didn’t care.
Tension built on adrenaline and arousal filled the air. Making it so thick I had to force my breaths in and out even with the windows down. My skin was sizzling with heat, the faster he drove the hotter I got.
I was on the verge of writhing in the seat when his hand slid up my thigh, a little too high, and back down again.
I gasped at the contact. His hand went perfectly still. With my heart pumping fast in my chest, I waited for something, anything. When nothing came, I used my own to guide his hand back up my thigh. I tucked my hair behind my ear and bit my lip against the rush of pleasure.
I turned and pressed myself against him, my lips seeking purchase on the warm skin of his neck.
How could one man be so attractive, so arousing? It had always been like God had made him with special specs for me. I’d tried with others. I’d tried to find other men as attractive as I found him. None had ever measured up.
For me, it was always Jordan Slater.
With a wriggle, I slid the denim shorts down my hips. Beside me, Jordan’s grin was feral and dangerous.