All Chained Up (Devil's Rock #1)(47)

A car honked driving past, the guys inside catcalling her. She sent a glance over her shoulder, satisfying herself that they weren’t stopping.

“What the hell are you doing?”

She yelped and whirled around, her back slamming into her wet car as she gawked at a very pissed-looking Knox in front of her. She forgot that she held the hose in her hand. Water sprayed down the front of his big body. His hands came up to ward off the water.

She lowered the hose. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down at himself, his dark eyebrows drawing tight. “Getting soaked, apparently.”

Her gaze followed his stare to his soaking wet shirt. It was plastered to his chest. She swallowed a suddenly dry throat, tracking the outline of every delicious muscled ridge and indentation.

“You startled me,” she accused just as her water slowed to a weak drizzle and shut off, her ten minutes at an end.

“I was driving by and spotted you. Hard not to when you’re sticking your ass out for every passing car to ogle.” His gaze dropped to her chest and his eyes darkened to slate.

Her gaze dipped and heat scalded her face at the sight of her breasts. Her nipples poked through her bra and T-shirt. She hunched her shoulders self-consciously. Pointless, she supposed. He’d seen, tasted, and touched all of her.

“I—I’m washing my car.” She glanced out at the road. “Were you just driving by or . . .” She couldn’t finish the question. Was he coming to see her? presumed too much.

“Something like that,” he murmured, dragging a hand down his dripping face. He turned and dug into his pocket. Pulling out more change, he turned and fed it to the ancient machine, adding more time.

He faced her. A muscle worked in his cheek, feathering his bristly skin there. “The sooner we finish, the sooner every jackhole that drives past won’t drool over you like some piece of meat.” He picked up the soapy sponge and easily reached the roof of the car, covering all the areas that she could not reach. She watched, frozen for a moment as he washed her car. He cared that jackholes drooled over her? Even though she thought that an exaggeration, pleasure suffused her chest.

He glanced back at her. “Come on. Water is running. Wash off the soap.”

She blinked out of her daze and proceeded to rinse the soap off the gleaming hood. She followed in his wake, spraying off all the suds, her gaze repeatedly straying to him. She couldn’t help herself. She tracked the way his muscled body stretched and worked, walking purposefully around her car. The water finally stopped and she hooked the hose back into place. Opening her car door, she reached inside and tossed him one of the towels she’d brought. Grabbing the other one, she started rubbing her car dry.

“You know there are car washes where people do this for you?” he asked.

She grinned at him over the hood of the car. “I didn’t think you were the kind of guy to pay someone else to wash your car.”

“I’m not. But I thought you were.”

Briar worked her towel in fierce circles, fighting a grin. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“So I’m learning.”

Something warm unfurled in her chest at his deep voice. Did that mean he wanted to? No, no, no, no. She killed that thought and her budding smile. She couldn’t get her hopes up about this guy. Not him. He wasn’t anyone she could bring to Thanksgiving dinner. She couldn’t forget that fact.

“For example,” he added, “are you a pepperoni kind of girl? Or do you like the works?”

She paused and blinked at him over the car. He didn’t even look up as he worked to dry the rear window. “What do you mean?”

“Pizza,” he elaborated, flicking her a glance that was faintly amused.

“Oh.” Was he leading up to asking her out to dinner? “Who said I like pizza at all?” she hedged, her mind working feverishly. Did she want to go out with him? When she was so desperately fighting for distance?

“It’s un-American not to like pizza. Of course you do.” He crouched to dry her front fender without even looking up at her. Her breath caught as she watched the way the back of his T-shirt hugged his flexing shoulders and back.

“I like everything on my pizza,” she admitted. “The works.”

He straightened. “Good. Me, too.” He stepped back and surveyed the car, making sure it was dry before looking at her again. “Think it’s all dry now.”

She spared a cursory glance for the car, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks for the help.”

“So how about that pizza?” Knox scanned her, his eyes stopping on her breasts. Her nipples reacted, hardening beneath his perusal. She pulled at her damp shirt self-consciously and pressed her legs together against the sudden clenching ache. “Maybe we should order in,” he suggested.

As in order pizza at her place? Where they would be alone? This had BAD IDEA written all over it. Would they actually eat? They only ever seemed to do one thing when they were alone together, and for the life of her she couldn’t think very clearly on why that wasn’t what she wanted.

She cleared her throat. “Uh—”

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked.

“No.”

“Well, you gotta eat. Let’s go.” Decision made, he turned and strode to a motorcycle parked a few yards away that she hadn’t noticed before. He straddled the big machine. His big body on top of that beast of shiny chrome and metal made her girl parts melt and quiver. She watched him for a moment, her resistance dissolving to dust.