Page 140 of Mexico Can Choke On It
He’s wearing distressed Ralph Lauren jeans and a crisp white tee that hugs his chest in the yummiest way. He completes the look with a light gray bomber jacket, giving off that effortless cool-guy aura. His tousled blond hair saysI’m a gentleman—until the door locks.
“You are absolutely fucking edible. I should be arrested for the thoughts I’m having.”
“Noted. Pip has a thing for denim.”
“Zip it and give me a spin, Ken doll. I want the full 360 on the billionaire booty.”
“Where exactly did you acquire this wardrobe?” he asks, running a hand over the smooth cotton shirt. “And how did you know my measurements?”
“I have my ways.”
He raises a brow.
“Fine. I blackmailed Sebastian. He had a local stylist rush the whole thing.”
“You blackmailed a celebrity stylist?”
“Threatened, really. There’s a difference.” I pull out the note that came with the clothes, clearing my throat dramatically. “Sebastian’s exact words: ‘Miss Brinkman, I find your threat to hide sardine sandwiches in vintage Chanel both disturbing and effective. Consider this my final act of charity in your hopeless pursuit of… whatever. I don’t care.’”
“Sardine sandwiches?”
“Specifically in the clothes you’ll be returning to him. Figured the smell would make a nasty impression on his next client.”
Bryce laughs—actually laughs—and it makes my whole body tingle. “You’re diabolical.”
“Speaking of which, time for the main event.”
I hold up a silk blindfold.
“Not happening in public.”
“Where we’re going, nobody gives a shit about your net worth or your family name. That’s exactly why I got you the disguise—so you can blend in with us normies.”
His gaze sweeps over me, taking in my standard outfit of dark jeans, vintage band tee, leather jacket, and combat boots. “Before we go anywhere, I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
He moves closer, backing me against the car. “You in that leather jacket and those boots? It’s been destroying my concentration since you tackled me at my mother’s house.”
His mouth is on mine before I know what’s happening. He kisses me like it’s been killing him not to. It’s… longing. Possession. Appreciation. Promise.
When we break apart, I’m dizzy. “Damn, B. We should get matching tattoos to remember that mind-blowing kiss.”
“Is that the surprise?”
“Nope. No surprise unless I’m running the show.” I wiggle the blindfold at him. “You can be a good boy, or I can use one of those tasers you got me. Your choice.”
His gaze smolders. “Why don’t we stay here and see where the back seat takes us?”
To prove his point, he kisses me so hard my toes curl in my boots.
I force myself to break away. “Tempting offer, but we’ve got a sunset to catch. I did not arrange all this so we could make out in a parking garage. Tonight’s about you being a regular dude. With incredibly tight jeans.”
“Fine.” He fake-sighs but lets me tie the blindfold on, muttering, “I swear, if I wake up duct-taped to a piñata—”
“Can you see me flashing my boobs right now?”
I wave my hand in front of him.
