“I’ll go with.” Livvie stands and wipes her hands on her dress. “You’ve been drinking, and besides, weren’t we just saying that we haven’t had near enough time to catch up?”
“Hell,” I tell her, unable to stop myself, “we may need all night to do that.”
She smiles, and the wicked curve of her lips makes my mouth go dry. “I’ve always wanted to give your big truck a try. If you’ll let me drive, that is.”
Heat unfurls in my stomach, which has nothing to do with the beer. “You got it, Spitfire,” I say tossing my empty beer bottle in the trashcan.
She looks back over her shoulder. “Do you think it’s safe to leave the two of them here alone?”
I jerk my chin toward Jack and Sofie. “They’re big kids. They should be able to play nice.”
Besides, she should be more worried about herself.
I follow her back to the house, trying to look anywhere but the shapely lines of her hips and waist as she climbs the steps in front of me.
Livvie opens the sliding glass door and we step into the house. She closes it behind me, shutting out the laughter and conversation from those outside. My truck is parked next to the back porch. I toss her the keys, and she catches them with a wide grin. My heart damn near jumps out of my chest when she slithers into the driver’s seat. And not because I’m nervous about letting her behind the wheel of my baby.
I climb into the passenger’s seat reluctantly. Her face is entirely too eager, and she laughs at my expression when she cranks the engine.
“Oh, come on, Ben. I promise I’ll be gentle.” She winks.
My throat goes dry. “For some reason, I don’t quite believe you.”
She frowns at me. “What’s not to believe? I’m a good driver.”
“That’s just the problem,” I tell her. “It’s always the good ones you have to watch out for.”
Logan ambles his way to the truck and manages to haul his bulk into the back seat.
“You all right back there?”
A groan answers and I snicker when I see him sprawled out, his head leaned against the window.
She eases out of the driveway and carefully maneuvers around the other parked cars. “Who said I was good?”
I catch my bottom lip beneath my teeth in order to swallow the urge to test her rebellious nature. Her cheeks pink when she catches my intent stare. I gesture with my fingers. “My lips are sealed.”
I change the subject until we reach Logan’s house a ways across town—for her own sake, really. My restraint can only last so long.
Logan lives in a little apartment complex, a far cry from the two-story brick house he and his wife bought after they married. I wrestle him to the front door and take a risky dip inside his pants pocket for his house keys.
We manage to stumble into his living room and I shoulder him onto the couch, where he falls face-first into the cushions mumbling something about wanting Captain Crunch. I ignore him and stick to making sure he won’t suffocate and head out, locking the front door behind me.
I step outside to get a little air and hopefully a good dose of reality. I feel like I’m on a ledge and the only thing keeping me from falling over the edge is my own good sense—and I’m running terribly low on that.
Olivia eyes me from where she stands by the truck. She sends me a hesitant smile. “Do you mind if we go for a drive? Sofie just texted me. She’s going home. Jack’s probably grabbing a shower. I’m not ready to go home to an empty house and it’s my last Friday before school starts.”
From the sly look she gives me as she climbs back into the cab of the truck, I know she’s interested in more than just a drive.
I know I shouldn’t go there. Jack would have my ass, or other more sensitive parts of my anatomy, to say the least. Regardless, I find myself reaching for the door handle, my jeans now uncomfortably tight. A song comes on the radio, and from the corner of my eye, I can see her singing along with the music, though I can’t hear her over the rush of blood in my ears.
We reach a stoplight, just as the song ends. We both lock eyes and I watch her throat bob as she swallows. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m leaving soon, or just something that’s been building since the day we met, but when it comes to Olivia, my self-control has reached a breaking point.
I watch her shift in the seat, smooth thighs sliding on the summer-slick leather, and I wonder how different she’ll be when I get back. Will she still bite her lip when she gets nervous? Will she still look at me with that expectant gleam in her eye, like she’s waiting for me to make a move?
Or will she move on without me?
The thought makes my heart race and my blood heats.
Fuck it.
Survivor (First to Fight Book 2) Page 20
