Page 33 of Blind Spot
Everyone either ducked down behind their cars or jumped inside them and pulled out of the lot. I didn’t give a shit as long as they weren’t looking at Charly.
“I’ll finish this shit. Sit down and don’t get out again,” I ordered and slammed her door closed.
“Fine,” she mumbled.
I grabbed the shammy and dried my car first. Charly was engrossed in her phone while her head bobbed to her music. When I finished my car, I proceeded to dry her car off.
Charly was still pissed at me and determined to make my job difficult. She made kissing faces, stuck her tongue out, and got up and wiggled her ass.
“Keep that shit up!”
“Kiss it,” she shouted through the window and smacked her ass.
My dick jerked in my joggers, and I grabbed it and massaged it. Fuck.
“I’m gon’ spank it,” I warned, and she sat back down.
Charly rolled her eyes and turned her back to me. When I finished, I smacked the hood of her car, and she tore out of there. I hopped in my car and sped out behind her.
Lord knew that girl was gonna be the death of me. I’d have to go home and watch porn or something, because she had me all the way fucked up.
Chapter 11
Charly
ONE WEEK LATER
“You’re not racing tonight?” I asked, walking into the living room and plopping down on the couch beside Dominic.
“Nah. I’m tired. It’s been a long week.”
“I’m surprised. You never miss an opportunity to race, or at least be out there for your brothers,” I declared, moving around to rest my head in his lap.
“Come on, bigheaded ass girl.” He mushed the side of my head.
“Why you tripping?”
“I’m trying to watch TV, and you’re just gonna plop your ass down right here, pull up your iPad, and start reading a book like you don’t see me trying to watch TV.”
I turned sideways and looked up at him. Dominic’s elbow rested on the arm of the couch, and his chin rested in his hand. Irritation marked the grooves on his face, but I knew Dom. He wasn’t really irritated, just trying to irritate me.
“Fine. I’m sorry. I’ll go sit somewhere else,” I replied and sat up. I swung my legs over the couch and stood.
“Get your spoiled ass back over here. Big ass baby,” he complained and tugged my hand.
“Nah. It’s all good. I don’t have to sit here if you don’t want me to.”
The look in his eyes as he looked up at me was my undoing. I could no longer hold my feelings inside. I needed to tell him what being here with him was doing to me. If it drove a wedge between us, I would feel like crap, but I couldn’t keep holding it inside. I couldn’t pretend like I didn’t care or that I didn’t want him. I couldn’t act like every time he walked around here without a shirt on, that it didn’t do something to me.
“Sit ya ass down,” he grumbled and tugged so hard until I fell on his lap.
I lay there staring up at him for several seconds before I pushed up and sat beside him. I scratched the back of my head. “I don’t like this,” I mumbled.
“Like what?”
“This . . . strangeness between us,” I stated, waving a hand in the space between us.
Shrugging, he replied, “I don’t feel any strangeness.”
