Page 107 of Rider Daddies
I can’t get them in trouble. If anyone’s gonna kill Tristan, it’s me.
Talk about a satisfying kill. He stole my life.
In return? I steal his.
I slip a hand under my white tee and blindly search for the catch of my bra.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking off my bra.”
Tristan tears his eyes away from the road for just a second as if to clarify my response. “Why?” he stutters.
“You should try and wear a push-up all day and see how it makes you feel.”
“It’s unnecessary.”
There’s my billionth reason as to why this man is terrible for me. The only time he cares about me getting naked is when I’m undressing in front of a man who isn’t him.
I unhook the bra and slide it out from under my tank top, laying it out in my hands. It’d be a fine bra to die in—red lace with pink frills around the edges.
It’s also a shame that I’m using it as a prop to distract Tristan from the road, since flashing my breasts isn’t going to work with him.
I was half hoping to save this bra for the boys, but to be honest, they’d probably be too aggressive and rip it off.
“What are you?—?”
I fit the bra over his eyes, fixing the straps behind his ears as you would a pair of glasses. And then I secure the garment around the back of his head by quickly rehooking the clasps.
“Lucia!”
He takes one hand from the steering wheel to fight off the bra.
If he wasn’t driving the vehicle, I’d be belly-laughing. The sight of him trying and failing to wrestle a bra away from his eyes is quite something.
I catch the hand that’s flaying in midair, tugging him away from the driver’s side.
I save the car from veering off the road with a last-minute steer, the wheels screeching against the road as I bring the vehicle back to center.
Willow screams.
“You want to murder all of us?” Tristan shouts.
“Just you.”
He growls, tugging the bra off his head.
And if I wasn’t one step ahead, he would succeed.
I rehook the bra around his head on the tightest setting. “Is this turning you on?”
“What the fuck, Lucia?”
“Do you still want us to marry? To live out the rest of our lives together?”
He doesn’t respond to that question. Instead, he goes in again for attempt number two.
“How many bras have you taken off in your lifetime?” I chuckle. “My money’s on zero.”
