Page 13 of Caught Up In You

“In the truck,” he says, tipping my head back down so he can capture my gaze again. “Get in the fucking truck, Wyatt.”

His phone buzzes first, a gentle vibration in his pocket that I instinctively thrust toward. But then mine goes off, an air horn of an alert that sends my heart into my throat.

“What the fuck,” I say, reaching for my phone in my back pocket. My intention is to silence the damn thing and then get to work on the button of Owen’s jeans. I’m anxious to see what I’vebeen feeling against me. I’m already thinking about dropping to my knees right here in the gravel, imagining what it would feel like to hold that impressive control in my hand, to take it from him, to watch him fall apart.

But Owen gets his phone out first, and his brow furrows. A matching alert is on my own screen: a weather warning. The temperature is dropping faster than anticipated, a fact I hadn’t noticed because Owen has me so hot I’m practically sweating. I watch my breath fog up my screen as I realize that the ice storm is coming sooner than the forecast said.

“Shit,” Owen mutters into the glow of his phone.

“Yeah,” I reply. My first thought is Hazel and Eden, alone in our house. We don’t have a generator, and if the electricity goes out it’ll get cold fast. “I should get back.”

“Yeah. I need to make sure the generator kicks on at the practice if we lose power,” he says. He scrubs a hand down his face.

“So much for the moment,” I quip, trying to mask the misery I feel. If blue balls were a real phenomenon, I’d have it right now.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he says, somehow both sweet and filthy.

“It does,” I say gently. This was always going to be a one-time thing. And frankly, it probably shouldn’t even have been that. Now that the frigid air is cooling me down, I can see how carried away I was getting. I was seriously ready to suck Owen McBride’s cock in a parking lot. Jesus Christ,what was I thinking?

And while he doesn’t know about all the dirty thoughts I had, it was obvious from the feel of him that he had plenty of his own. Thoughts I’ll never know, because I’m watching them fade right in front of me.

“Yeah,” he says, half groan, half sigh.

“Well, you did convince me,” I tell him.

“What?” Goddammit, his face looks almost hopeful.

“I was wrong about you,” I say. “Youarea little bit of trouble.”

And at that, he blushes. Heblushes, and I damn near dive into his truck, ice storm be damned. I can still feel the ghost of his firm grip, those hands that surely know all kinds of ways to make me scream. My lips feel swollen and achy from his attention.

Iwanthim.

Which is the surest sign that I should not—cannot—have him.

“Give me your phone,” he says.

I look up at him, and there’s a ghost of that commanding stare on his face. “What?”

“Give me your phone,” he repeats, and he’s still got that heated tone, the one that would have ordered me to do all manner of delightful things. And so I slip my phone out of my back pocket and pass it to him. He taps the screen, then holds it up to my face until it unlocks. He taps furiously, then passes it back. On the screen is an open text message from me to a number I don’t recognize.

Owen, I’m going to text you when I’m home safe. And if I need anything during the storm, you’ll be my first call.

I swallow a groan. This man is a test from the devil; now I know for sure. The devil is absolutely tempting me to make a fat stack of bad decisions. But then another text pops up on my screen.

Hazel

You okay out there? I just got the weather alert

I sigh. “Party’s over,” I mutter.

“I’m serious, Wyatt. You need to text me when you’re home safe,” he says, his voice stern.

I roll my eyes, the spell broken. “Yes,Dad,” I say, but Owen captures my chin between his thumb and forefinger, leveling me with a look.

“Not my kink,” he says, and the flame of desire in my belly lights anew.

He grabs my hand and pulls me across the parking lot to my truck. He reaches into my back pocket with one of his big hands, extracts my car keys, and unlocks the door. It creaks open under his tug, and he stands there until I’m settled in the driver’s seat. Then he shuts the door firmly and leans toward the window.

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