Page 94 of A Little Crush
Peeking up at him, I whisper, “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” He offers his hand, and I take it, using it as leverage before sliding into the passenger seat, and holy hell, could I get lost in those eyes.
Tucking my hair behind my ear while trying to keep my libido in check, I add, “And I feel bad about Eric.”
“Me, too. Your dad sent me a text earlier. Crowther’s gonna miss a few games but promised to keep the higher-ups in the loop.”
“That’s good.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“You’re not going to be too hard on him, right?” I add. “What with the whole banquet thing.”
“Depends.” He looks around the parking lot, then leans in and kisses my cheek. “You gonna tell him you’re just friends?”
With a laugh, I roll my eyes and shove him playfully. “Depends. Are you gonna keep treating me like a yo-yo every time we kiss, Mr. Hot-and-Cold?”
“Ouch.” He backs away, but before the door closes fully, he tosses something between the gap. It lands on my lap, feeling lighter than a feather. My face flames even more when I realize what it is. My. Freaking. Underwear. This is what I get for trying to be spontaneous and sexy. Enoughshame to last me a lifetime. As I tuck the flimsy material under my thigh, Jaxon climbs into the driver’s seat, giving me a smirk that makes me want to turn into a puddle.
“I’m not sure why you find this so hilarious,” I point out. “One small breeze, and your family would’ve seen a lot more than they should.”
“You mean, the breeze my mom pointed out?” Mirth dances in his eyes as he rests his forearm along the top of the steering wheel. “It’d almost be worth it just to see how you’d react.”
“You’re so funny.” I give him a mock glare. “You wanna know who else is funny, though? Eric. Maybe I should give him another call. See when he wants to go on the miniature golf date you mentioned to your parents.”
The curve of his mouth shoots straight toward the ground. “Now look who’s being funny.” Reaching over the center console, he squeezes my bare thigh.
I jolt in response. “Don’t you dare tickle me?—”
His laugh cuts me off as he squeezes me again. “I forgot how ticklish you can be.”
The sound of my hand smacking his rings through the air. “So help me, Jaxon?—”
“I’ll play nice,” he promises.
“Liar!”
“Don’t you trust me?” He stops squeezing but keeps his hand planted on my leg. It’s a dare. A game. A test.
My eyes narrow in suspicion, but I don’t pull away. Not yet. Not unless he betrays me.
“See?” Slowly, he glides his thumb up and down along my inner thigh. “Nice.”
And it’s crazy. How a simple touch manages to burrow deep and drive me insane, making me oh-so-aware of all things Jaxon. Including the invisible string seemingly tiedaround his thumb, connected straight to my libido. And here he is, tugging on it with an easy brush of his fingertips.
As I shift in the seat, my attention darts to the windshield. “We’re still in the parking lot,” I breathe out.
“And you’re still not wearing underwear.” His fingers dance along my outer thigh, bringing the light fabric of my dress with them.
Inch after not-so-innocent inch, I stare at his calloused hand on my leg as he moves it higher and higher. “Jaxon.” It’s a warning.
“Tell me to stop.”
Heat builds in my core as I consider the man himself instead of what he’s doing to me. The subtle clench of his jaw. The slight part of his lips. The dark sheen of his eyes trailing from my own gaze to my mouth. He’s right. I could tell him to stop. I could remind him that his parents are less than a football field away and could catch us. I could beg him to take me home where we have a semblance of privacy. But the idea of ending it. Of letting whatever’s in this truck fizzle into nothing. It feels like a waste. A waste of perfectly good, and achingly promising, curiosity. And damn, am I curious.
Pressing my lips together, I lean my head against the headrest, my gaze never wavering.
“Part your thighs,” he rasps.
