Page 38 of Dream Chaser
“Deer meat.” I chuckle silently. “Venison?”
“Raised in a small city, not in a rural area; cut me some slack, Izzy Ross.”
I turn to face him. “If it’s cooked right, it tastes?—”
“Like chicken?” he jokes.
“No, like venison.”
“You get that makes no sense, feel me?”
Feel me …
“Depends on the cut and how it’s prepared. If it tastes gamey, I’m not eating it.”
He looks toward the door, and then at his watch.
“You can go. I’m not keeping you?—”
“No, fuck.” He runs his hand through his seriously amazing waves. “You’re keeping me from getting off this bus and getting an Uber back to that fucking place.” He looks out of the corner of his eyes at me. “Tell me more about Izzy Ross, the gun-yielding huntress that doesn’t shoot deer or take fish of hooks and calms chaos.”
“You about covered it.” I cross my arms and look back out the window, hoping he finds someone else to bother. And by bother, I mean like hot and bothered.
But then … oh Lord.
He shifts in his seat, one elbow draped across the backrest like he owns the damn world, and that’s when it hits me.
That freshly showered man … stank.
It’s not cologne. It’s clean soap, sharp eucalyptus, cedarwood, and a faint whiff of salt and spice. Like forest, and fight, and something hot from the inside out. It’s criminal, honestly. Like the scent equivalent of strong hands and a dark corner.
It smells like victory and vengeance. Like the back seat of a pickup, or evening rain, or the first bite of something too hot but too good to stop.
Like testosterone, bottled and weaponized.
And yeah, I’m screwed.
He looks at me. Smirks. “Something wrong, Ross?”
Yeah. You. Absolutely you.
His eyes dart between mine, and I know I have to say something that jabs him in the jaw a bit just to shut him up.
“You smell like my first.”
“Fucking a virgin’s never been my thing, but for you?—”
I elbow him in the side.
“Oof.”
“You must wear the same cologne as he did. Isscent of man-whoresold on a secret online store? Or the same soap maybe? Regardless, you smell like?—”
“Don’t say regret, Iz.” His eyes dance in amusement. “’Cause you wouldn’t,not with me anyway. I’d show you a damn good time. Multiple good times.”
“I’m going to give you a bl?—”
“Don’t say blowjob or I’m gonna make a mess of my pants, right here and right now,” he groans. Fucking groans.
