Page 42 of Love Sick

My nails are a shiny, sparkly red. They arebeautiful, and he is theworst. I glare at him. “At least I’m not dressed like Draco Malfoy.”

No-smile turns into a smirk. “Touché. Want a ride?”

My mouth falls open. “You—you’ll—in your truck?”

His eyes laser-focus on my parted lips before he shoots a half smile at the sky. “Is there another type of ride you might want?”

Was that…innuendo? Treacherous heat dances along my skin.

“Broomstick, perhaps?” he adds.

“Ha, ha. I was going to Uber so I can drink.”

“Well, I’m not drinking, and we live in the same place, so if you want to save money…”

I nod before I’ve actually decided. Or maybe my body just decided for me. “Yeah, okay. That’d be great. Thanks.”

He jerks his head toward the parking lot. I follow him to his truck, canceling my Uber on the way. The passenger seat hovers at the level of my shoulders. My heels slip on the running board and I almost kill myself in a graceless maneuver onto the seat.

A silken sensation slips around every nerve as the door closes and I’m inundated by his scent. A tiny pulse stirs between my legs.

Welp. This is a mistake. I now have to face the undeniable fact that the scent of Julian Santini does weird, erotic things to my body.

Is there anything more intimate than breathing someone into my lungs? Letting the essence of him saturate into my bloodstream and filter into every organ? What if my body grows receptors for him? Adapts to him?Wantshim?

I cross my legs and ignore it, glancing at him as he pulls out of the parking lot. He’s chewing gum. It makes the muscles in his jaw ripple.

He’s not cute.

Look at that jawline, though.

He’s rude.

But he knows how to smile without using his mouth.

That’s not hot.

It absolutely is.

“Why are you staring at me?”

I snap my head forward, but fire scalds my skin. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re such a jerk.”

“Takes one to know one, Sapphire.”

“Grace.”

He flashes me a quick grin. “Oops.”

I huff as we roll to a stoplight. “You’re working Christmas?”

“Yes.”

“Sucks for you.”

He taps on his steering wheel with his thumb. “You’ll get your turn. What are your plans?”

God, he smells good. I have to readjust the vent so the heat blows in my face in hopes of eradicating his godforsaken scent from my nose. “I’m going home. I fly out tomorrow.”

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