Page 21 of Rough and Rugged
The truck rumbled to life, and he shifted the gears before dropping his arm on the back of my seat and leaned in. “We’ll see who’s grumpy come morning, Dimples.” His lips grazed my ear and sent shivers over my body at the mind-altering smile and effectively scrambling any retort I had.
I was so fucked when it came to this man. Thank fuck it was only one night.
My heart wouldn’t survive it otherwise.
Chapter Three
Everett
Ipulledoutofthe pub and the engine’s roar vibrated through my legs. Or at least I assumed it was the engine because I’d never felt this… giddy.
Hell. Giddy? Who the fuck was I right now?
I didn’t do emotions, much less giddy ones.
But fuck, I also didn’t walk up to strangers and claim them in a bar.
Yet, I had with him.
When that asshole berated him and ignored what he said, my mouth took over before I could think about it, which was a first for me.
Not that I was complaining. It had been the best damn kiss of my life.
The hottie turned in the seat, an ocean scent wafting toward me. I hoped it seeped into every inch so I could smell him after he was gone.
Because he would leave. No one stayed in Applewood. I needed to remember that.
“Dimples?” he finally asked. I could feel his eyes roaming over me, heating every inch of exposed skin and doing nothing to quell the vibrations in my body. I glanced over, my heart flipping at the sight of this gorgeous man in my truck. I focused back on the road, gripping the steering wheel.
“Yep,” I croaked.
“But I don’t have dimples.” He frowned, making him cuter if that was possible.
“Yes, you do.” At the reminder of his perfect ass, I smiled, and excitement bubbled like carbonation.
“No. Wait. Huh?” he stuttered so adorably I hoped he’d never quit talking.
The admission should’ve scared me, but I ignored it. I could be reckless for one night, but tomorrow, I’d return to being my avoidant self.
“I think you meanbutt, Dimples.”
His cheeks tinged pink, and I wished I wasn’t driving so I could imagine it spreading over his body. I dropped my right hand to the console, mere inches from his knee, and debated placing my hand there. Would that be too forward? Did I care? I hadn’t when I claimed his lips in front of that sleazy guy.
“Oh.” He cleared his throat, shifting, and brushing his knee against my fingers. They tingled from the brief contact, and I couldn’t wait to feel his skin against me.
“Did I break you?” I said, turning on my turn signal. When I placed my hand back in the center, I dropped it on his knee, cupping it.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” He laughed, the sound light and heartfelt, reminding me of summer nights full of fireflies. He ran his fingers through his hair, the honey waves thick and luscious, not helping the quickly hardening cock in my pants. “Don’t get me wrong, I like how direct you are. It’s sexy as hell, but it’s taking me a little to get used to. In my field, no one is ever honest. It’s all mind games and loopholes. So, you’re refreshing, Lumbergrump.”
I huffed, “I’m not a grumpora lumberjack.”
“Sure you aren’t,” he teased. “Tell that to your flannel.” He chuckled, and my pulse skittered at the sound. He shifted, bringing his body closer to the center, and my hand slid higher on his thigh. “It’s better than Daws, anyway. That doesn’t feel like your name at all.”
“That’s because it’s not. My last name’s Dawson, so people call me Daws or Dawson.” I shrugged, not understanding it and liking that he thought about my name.
“Hmm.” He tapped his lip. The urge to watch him over the road was a battle. “So, are we doing the typical one-night stand thing where we keep personal information to ourselves?”
His question took me aback. Hearing him say it was only one night rattled me despite knowing this was precisely what it was. I squeezed his thigh involuntarily. His hiss of air at the gesture lit me on fire, erasing logical thinking from my mind.