Page 30 of Lights Out

She frowned and leaned forward for a better look, glancing up at me afterward with one brow arched. “You brought me snacks?”

I nodded and put the bag on the center console for her.

She made no move to take it, her expression turning exasperated. “I’m not eating any of that. You could have drugged it.”

Fair point. I snagged the sandwich bag filled with apple slices. My gloves were thin enough that it was easy to lift one out. I tugged my mask away from my face just enough to get the slice inside it without revealing more than the edge of my jaw and slid the apple into my mouth.

I made a “See?” motion as I started to chew, but Aly was too busy staring at where my jaw was hidden again to pay much attention to my hands.

My mouth went dry. Did she feel it, too? This undeniable pull between us? I was trying to be a gentleman, had promised myself that tonight and this ride home was about reassuring her that she could trust me with her safety – after all, it was a big ask to get someone to agree to sex with a knife-wielding stranger – but if she kept looking at me like that, I didn’t know if I could keep myself in check for much longer.

She licked her lips as her eyes slid from my face to take in the rest of me. I went still in my seat, telling my dick not to react, but it had a mind of its own when it came to her, so there it went, shoving against the restriction of my jeans, demanding to be let out.

Aly took her sweet time looking me over. There wasn’t much on display – I wore jeans and a hoodie – but I’d left thesweatshirt unzipped, and Aly’s gaze went straight to the way my fitted Henley flattened against my stomach.

“Is that the shirt you wore in your latest video?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

I nodded.

She shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts. Dirty thoughts? “Did you think you were being funny by posting such a sappy thirst trap after what you did to me?”

I nodded vigorously this time, glad she couldn’t see my shit-eating grin.

She huffed out a breath and looked away, but not before I caught the edge of her lips tilting up.

A car horn honked behind us, and we both jumped.

Right. I was supposed to be driving Aly home, not contemplating whether or not she’d like to get ravaged in the back of her car.

I waved to the impatient person behind me and took my foot off the brake. They pulled into the open space I’d just vacated, and I slowed again, just long enough to tilt my phone away from Aly, kill the loop I’d placed on all the cameras on this level of the parking garage, and hit go on my map so she would know I wasn’t blowing smoke up her ass about following directions. That done, I headed toward the exit ramp while a soothing British woman’s voice told me where to go next.

The sound of crunching came from the passenger seat. I glanced over and saw Aly helping herself to the apple slices with one hand, the other still pointing the gun in my direction. A frisson of warmth wound through me at the sight. Why did it feel so good to care for her, even on such a micro level? Was it because I’d never had anyone to call my own before? Or was this some inborn instinct all men had that, up until now, was suppressed by the cocktail of prescription drugs I’d been on since puberty?

Either way, I wasn’t questioning it. Taking care of her felt good. It was clear to me from what I’d seen that someone needed to, and I’d be damned if I let another man do it. My roommate was a goddamn moron. Didn’t he realize what he’d had when he was with her? How was he foolish enough to let such a perfect creature slip through his fingers? How were all of her past partners equally blind? She should be wifed up by now, spoiled and cherished like the queen she was.

Men were idiots. That was the only explanation.

Aly finished the apples as I pulled out of the parking garage. She tugged the lunch bag toward her and started poking around in it. I’d packed a variety of other options: a squeezable yogurt, carrot sticks, an orange, and trail mix I made myself. There was even a water bottle in there to wash everything down.

“You first,” she said, passing the trail mix over.

I stopped at the end of the exit ramp and took the bag from her. Our fingers slid against each other.

Curse these fucking gloves and the need for them.

That was the first time we’d touched, and I hated that it hadn’t been skin-to-skin. I craved the feel of her against me, even if it was just a fleeting brush.

I hefted my phone and typed,You just want to get another look at my jaw.

“It’s a nice jaw,” she said, unapologetic. “Now quit stalling. I’m hungry.”

I set my phone down to keep from typing something potentially offensive about how hungry I was, too. For her. Then I scooped out a handful of the mix and turned away because I needed to pull the mask up a little further to manage this, and I didn’t want her to see more than I was ready for her to.

“Spoilsport,” she said as I shoved the trail mix into my mouth and tugged the mask back down.

I gave her a thumbs up as I chewed and then eased my foot off the brake. The snow was really coming down. I’d checked the weather several times over the past few hours, and the accumulation predictions kept climbing. Storm totals were hard to forecast in our area because cells habitually stalled over us and dumped more snow than expected. At this rate, I wouldn’t have been surprised if we had a foot on the ground by sun up.

Even though the plows were out, they couldn’t keep up, and the roads were shit. My Uber driver had a hell of a time getting me to the hospital earlier, and her vehicle was an SUV with four-wheel drive. Aly’s car was a small sedan, and it might not have had four-wheel, but at least it came with traction control. I hoped I didn’t need it as I pulled onto the slush-covered road.

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