Flock (The Ravenhood #1)(28)

And I’m horrible. Despite my best efforts, my depth perception is off, way off to the point it’s embarrassing. And the guys have no issue razzing me about it. After scratching my way into another loss to Jeremy, I push my lip out and head for a seat on the couch, instead opting for Sean’s lap. He allows it, running a welcome hand down my back.

“I suck.”

“You do,” he agrees.

I grind my elbow into his side.

“Easy now. It takes practice,” Sean murmurs as I lean back into the stroke of his hand. The rhythmic feel of his fingers lulls me into a state of want as I watch him crack up with his friends. After another few games or so, I’m completely absorbed, in his smell, his hands, the timber of his voice, the feel of him. Everything about Sean turns me on, not just the way he looks but also the workings of his mind. It’s a draw that has me dizzy, aroused continuously, and enraptured in a way I’m not used to. Sean, in a way, is a new drug. More potent. More addictive and altogether just…more.

He turns to me, seeming to read my thoughts and his grin widens. “Something on your mind, Pup?” He’s well aware of exactly what I’m thinking, but I don’t play into it.

“I’m… Will you teach me how to drive?”

“You know how to drive.”

“No, like you drive.”

My eyes rake his face and lower. And we share a second or two, lost in those seconds in that cave. I know he’s there. His body draws tight as I lean into him.

“Please?”

Wordless, he stands, holding me to him as he nods at Tyler. “We’re going to take off.”

Grinning, I wave goodbye at the guys before following him out of the garage and into the parking lot. He pulls his keys from his pocket and tosses them to me, I catch them easily, as a thrill runs through me.

“You’re really going to let me drive?” I eye his prized possession.

“Let’s see what you got.”

Amped, I slide into his car, loving the feel of the wheel at my fingertips.

Sean glides in next to me. “Know how to drive a stick?”

I nod. “My mom had one. I learned on it.”

I check the car is in neutral and turn the engine over, giving it a chance to warm up.

In my sundress, I appreciate the cool feel of the bench seat beneath the material on my thighs.

“How did you guys manage to find all these classics?” I glance around the cabin in awe of the state of it. It’s been perfectly restored.

“They were all in my family, my uncle collected them, and when he died, we restored them. That’s how we all got started fixing cars.”

“They’re so rare. Aren’t you guys ever afraid to wreck them?”

“What’s the point of having something if you don’t use it?”

“Good point,” I say, securing the ancient seatbelt around my waist and run my finger over the SS on the wheel. Doubt creeps in and he drowns it out, his reassurance falling easy from his lips. He’s not nervous, which makes me less so.

“It’s just a car. Easy on the turns, these weren’t made for mountain roads.”

“That’s true, so why do you drive them?”

A flash of teeth. “Because we fucking can.”

I shake my head at the pride in his eyes.

“You’re such a man.”

“Thank you. Now, you’ll get used to the give on the wheel, but take your time in figuring it out.”

I nod, studying the gear shift and frowning. “This isn’t like the one I learned on.”

“Take it slow,” he says, running a finger over the hand I have on the shift, “we’ve got all the time in the world.”

I grin over at him, and my breath gets stolen by his expression, the thump in my chest a sign of growing invitation. The cabin fills with tension, the good kind, as he rests comfortably on his side of the car.

“Ready?”

“So fucking ready,” he murmurs, before pulling his hand away.

Within a few grinding seconds of the clutch and a wince on my part, we’re off.

Sean guides me through the first few minutes, his voice gentle and assuring as he helps me navigate my way through the winding roads. Once we’re safely away from sharp turns, I give it some gas, and he gives me a few more pointers, while I memorize the clutch pattern.

“You’ve got it.”

“Not quite.”

“No,” he says, running a hand down my shoulder. “You’ve got it. Open it up.” I shiver under his touch and glance over at him catching his wink in the dim cabin.

Music thrums low through the speakers and Sean lifts from where he sits, turning the dial on the dash. “Good one,” is all he says as he cuts all communication letting me know the lesson is over and I’m on my own.

The Black Crowes begin to bellow, “She Talks to Angels,” as I’m granted my freedom, and I take it, anxious for the high. Between the music and steady buzz of the car, my whole body erupts in goosebumps. I can feel the smile on my face as the wind whips through my hair.

We’re flying, my heart soaring as I switch gears, surprising myself with the ease in the transition before I hammer the gas.

Sean doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move next to me, his trust mine as I begin to sing along with the lyrics, with him. I’m somewhere between screaming and singing when his fingers push away the thick hair at the nape of my neck and stroke down my arm. Senses heightened, my body sighs into his caress. He covers my neck, my arm, and slides his hand down to where his hand covers mine on the gearshift before drifting back up, and then he strokes my chin with his knuckle. My pulse skips when he slides the spaghetti strap of my sundress down, his fingertips ghosting over my skin.