Page 86 of Hidden Fears
When we’re finally outside, free of the drunk and sweaty crowd, she takes a full breath and moves to my side. Her arms wrap around my forearm as she presses her cheek to my shoulder. She seems… content. I feel the same.
Freeing my arm out of her grip, I put it around her shoulder and pull her into my side. “My car’s there. Let’s go.”
“Should you be driving?” She sniffles and wipes her nose. “You know, drunk.”
I glance down and find her with a tilted-up-to-me head. “I was planning on staying in the city and taking an Uber to the hotel,” I don’t add the part about doing it with someone else, but my mind was changed the second I hugged her, “but I haven’t even finished my beer.”
Her forehead wrinkles in concentration. “So you’re not drunk?”
“No, Josie. I am not.”
She presses her lips tight, and I don’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing because I never know what she’s thinking about. “Weird.”
I snort and walk her to my truck, where I open the passenger side and gesture for her to get inside because I don’t trust myself around her anymore. Much.
She puts her heeled foot on the running board and pushes herself up. She falls forward when she reaches the seat, throwing both hands in front of her. She lands with her elbows pressed into the seat and her ass up in the air. Her ass in a tight short dress. It rises up her juicy behind, leaving exactly zero to my imagination. Her black lacy panties wink at me from under the hem of her ridden dress. Plus, I already have a vague idea of how it all looks—andfeels—so the situation’s becoming painful with every passing second.
I look up at the sky and groan, asking for stronger willpower because she’s testing it like no one ever has, and I absolutely cannot fuck her on the street while she’s intoxicated. The more I repeat it to myself, the more I’ll believe it.
A loud giggle escapes from her painted-red lips while she’s trying to climb inside. I firmly place my hands on the door, so I don’t do something stupid like grab her waist and help her inside just so I can get another feel of her like some sicko. My hands anywhere near her right now would be very dangerous.
When she’s situated inside, I shut the door, groan at the sky again, and walk around the truck to my seat. Once I’m firmly in my seat, Josie ditches her shoes and brings the soles of her feet up. She hugs her legs and places her chin on her knees.
I make a quick assessment, ensuring she’s buckled up, and shift into gear.
“What do you feel like?” I ask, clearly meaning food since that was the reason we left the bar.
Her head slowly turns to me. She makes a point of raising one sharp brow so high it nearly disappears into the sky.
“Really?” she snickers.
“Food, Josie. Food. What do you feel like eating?” I feel my cheeks reddening.
“Not helping,” she replies unimpressed.
“Oh, fuck me,” I groan and wipe my face with my hand.
She snorts. “Can I?”
I throw an accusing look at her. “For fuck’s sake, Josie.” Shifting my left leg to the side, I try to relieve some of this pressure in my pants. “You need to stop.”
“Why?” she asks nonchalantly. “I like you squirming.”
“Yeah?” I glance at her quickly. “What if I take you up on your offer?”
“Then I get laid.” She shrugs. “Give me pistachio ice cream after, and my perfect evening is complete.”
“You love pistachio ice cream?” Choosing to verbally ignore her comment about getting laid, I give her a side-eye and turn the car toward the side of the street, where I notice an open burger joint. Greasy food will do her some good now—maybe it will soak up some of that alcohol she consumed and let her have a clearer head.
“Don’t judge my taste, and I won’t judge your vanilla.” Her hand comes in front of my face, and her finger pokes me on the nose. She giggles and retreats back, leaving me with a weird feeling deep in my chest.
And how does she know my favorite ice cream flavor is vanilla?
I have to drive past the joint because every single parking spot is taken. It’s a busy street, but I didn’t know it was this busy late in the evening.
She puts her shoes back on and pulls on the door, aiming to jump. I rush to her side, annoyed that she doesn’t let me be a gentleman even for a moment.
But to my surprise, she does. When I reach her door, she’s still sitting on the seat with her feet swinging from the height.
