My Killer Vacation(80)

“No. I can do it alone.” I take a deep breath. “Get me an iced coffee, please. I’m going to need it.”

“That’s probably an understatement.”

I don’t get a chance to ask my brother what he means by that ominous statement, because Myles rumbles into the spot beside me, switches off his engine…

And then he takes off his helmet, tossing back his mane of sweaty hair, biceps flexing as he hangs it over the handlebar. He grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it, swiping sweat from his brow and briefly exposing his thick, muscle-packed stomach. Those sharp ridges shift with his movements, covered in a light sheen of perspiration. Oh my.

When my view of Myles is obscured, I realize my breath is fogging the window.

Shaking myself, I exit the car on suddenly gelatinous legs. I clasp my hands together at my waist and straighten my spine, as if I’m getting ready to address the parents on back-to-school night. “Myles, this is simply not necessary—”

A big hand settles on my hip, cutting me off. Scorching me through my dress.

“Come here,” he says in a low voice, drawing me forward. “I like what you’re wearing.”

“Oh.” My right hip meets his inner thigh and a hot shiver wracks me, blazing a path through my belly and straight down to my toes. “I…um. Thanks, but—”

“These aren’t vacation clothes, are they? They’re regular life clothes.”

“Correct.”

He leans in to peer at my neckline, so close I can taste the salt of his sweat on my tongue. My nipples tighten in response. Quickly. Painfully. And so, when he says, “Are those little pearls sewn into the collar?” in that guttural tone of voice, I almost climb up on that very large, very sinewy thigh and scandalize the McDonald’s parking lot.

“I…yes. I suppose they are.”

“Mmm.” He fists the material of my dress and tugs gently until my breasts are a mere inch away from his chest. “Should I expect you in prim and proper dresses like this year-round?”

I don’t understand the question.

I’m too busy counting the grains of his stubble. Even his ears are attractive. Why have I never taken the time to notice his ears before? Heat rolls off his big shoulders in my direction, making it necessary to curl my fingers into my palms before I do something unwise like trace the swell of his pectorals or brush back his long hair.

“What you’re thinking is in no way showing on your face, Taylor,” he says gruffly.

“Good,” I respond briskly. Until those words actually penetrate. “I mean…what?”

He uses his grip on my dress to tug me close, laying his mouth against my ear. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Okay.” I’m shaking, hot moisture held at bay by the backs of my eyelids. “But you can’t just keep following me, Myles.”

“Taylor?” He captures my mouth in a long, hard kiss. “I’m going to keep following you.”

“Oh.” I stare at his perfect, one-of-a-kind mouth, wondering how I can get a little more action out of it. Without committing to anything, of course. This whole situation is ludicrous. “Well, I guess we can discuss this in Connecticut and you can leave from there.”

“We can discuss whatever you want. But I’m not leaving.”

How can I still want to climb onto his lap when he’s being so obstinate? “Have you been this stubborn the whole time?”

“Yes. Just not about the right things.”

“What does that mean?” I murmur, heart fluttering. Stop fluttering. Please.

“It means, I should have been less damn stubborn when pushing away the best thing that ever happened to me.” His voice resonates with sincerity and regret. “And more stubborn about locking her down.”

“I’m n-not property to be locked down.”

“I am. I’m your property.” His lips skim my jawline. “Inside and out.”

“Huhhh,” I whimper, embarrassingly, gravitating closer despite my best intentions, biting my lip to trap another second humiliating sound when my breasts flatten against his hard chest. “I appreciate all of this. You…saying things. Nice things.” Oh my God. Speak coherently. You’re a teacher. “I’m just worried you’re jumping into this relationship too fast and that you’ll regret being so hasty down the road.”

I’m arrested by his sudden grin. “You called it a relationship.”

“Don’t focus on that part.”

“I’m laser focused on it, Taylor.” His grin fades into a serious expression. “We experienced more in five days than most people experience in a year together. We got to know each other’s strengths and weaknesses and fears and dreams. Fast. And I’m drawn to every single piece of you. Everything that makes you Taylor. By the grace of God, you’re drawn to me, too, or you wouldn’t be halfway into my lap right now in a McDonald’s parking lot. Wave at the nice family, sweetheart.”

With a wince, I turn to find a Happy Meal toting family of five hustling to their station wagon through the parking lot. The mother is covering her youngest child’s eyes and shaking her head at me. “There’s a time and a place, folks,” she calls.