Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“It is,” he promised. “I had it done professionally. Booth used the same guy to fix it as I had do it the first time.”
I didn’t reply, instead walking up to the truck and running my fingers along the hood.
The moment I had the truck in between him and me, I started to loosen the tie on my sweatpants.
His eyes were on the truck, and not on me, so I continued to undress as his mind took him in the past.
But it didn’t matter.
I was about to bring him back into the now.
Into me.
I was going to make this truck a good memory, not a bad one.
And I was going to do it by fucking him on it…in it…and beside it.
I just hoped to hell and back Masen kept herself and her husband away long enough for me to do it.
“Tell me about your truck,” I ordered him.
His eyes closed, and I felt a wave of sorrow pour through me.
A man shouldn’t have those kind of scars—physical or emotional.
Sex likely wasn’t the answer to all of Aaron’s problems, but it was extremely hard to have a conversation with the man that didn’t have me all hot and bothered.
Hell, just last night he and Booth had been talking about cars. I’d sat there next to him and listened to the rasp of his deep, gravelly voice, and let my mind wander. At first, it’d started out innocent.
I loved his voice. I liked the way it sounded—the huskiness mixed with the deep timbre of it had shivers dancing up my spine.
But then it’d degraded from there, and I started to contemplate the feeling of sitting on his face while he whispered dirty words in between licks of my vagina.
“Not much to tell. Got it when I was younger. Started fixing it up. Turned into the truck of a lifetime. Everything fell into place perfectly.” He sounded happy when he spoke about it now, but as I looked back at him, letting my pants fall to the floor as I did, he looked anything but happy.
His eyes were trained on the front fender—just to the right of where I was standing now naked from the bottom down—and stared with unseeing eyes.
He was definitely disturbed. It was almost as if he didn’t want to have anything to do with being in the same room as the truck—as if it would reach out and strike at him.
“I painted it with Lynn in mind.”
I blinked.
“Why?” I asked, reaching through the open window of the truck and tossing my phone onto the seat.
He still didn’t look at me.
“Trying to appease her, I guess,” he muttered. “Hoping to get her to love what I loved. Should’ve known it wouldn’t work.”
I unbuttoned the top three buttons of my shirt before I discarded that as well, tossing it on the side of the truck.
The black fabric lay against the white paint like some carnal clue of what was to come.
“I asked her what her favorite color was and she said red,” he continued. “Fucking hate the color red.”
I smiled then, discarding the last article of clothing—my bra.
I placed it next to my t-shirt, and then opened the door of the truck.
“I don’t know,” I murmured, placing one knee into the seat of the truck. “I’m kind of fond of the color red.”
A swift inhalation had me smiling, but I didn’t turn around.
Not yet anyway.
He had to make the first move, after all.
He didn’t want to come anywhere near the truck, and if he wanted me, he’d have to overcome that fear.
“My nails are red,” I told him, bringing my hand up to my face and curling my fingers to admire the deep red of my nails.
Normally, I didn’t bother painting my nails.
It was a stupid endeavor for someone who worked with her hands like I did all day. The first time I had to reach into the motor for something—a lost bolt that I’d dropped most likely—I’d scrape the pretty paint right off. Then I’d have chips in my polish and have to take the polish off, making it a waste of money.
But I’d gone and done it with Masen as a way to get her out of the house, and she’d taken me up on the offer—even though it was less than five minutes from her house, and Booth was at the restaurant right next door waiting for her.
“What are you doing?” Aaron’s strangled voice sounded from behind me, jolting me out of the contemplation of my nails.
I looked at him over my shoulder.
“I’m about to try out your shocks,” I informed him. “Are you going to join me?”
He swallowed.
“No.”
One word. One syllable. Two letters.
It’d sounded like I’d strangled the word out of him.
“Why not?” I asked, twisting my body around until I faced him fully.
His eyes went from my breasts, to the space between my splayed thighs, to my face, and back again.