Sinful Longing (Sinful Nights, #3)(39)

It wasn’t.

Rex was calling.

“Hey, man, what’s up?”

“Okay, here’s the deal. I am almost ready,” Rex said, stretching out the word. “I’m like ninety percent ready. And I want to just kill it on this test. But there’s one problem that’s making me absolutely bat-shit crazy.”

“Lay it on me,” Colin said, as he opened a drawer to grab a pair of boxers.

Rex rattled off the details, and Colin walked him through the steps to solving the equation as he pulled on black briefs and hung up his towel. The other line rang as he reviewed how to crosscheck the work, but he didn’t look to see who was calling since he was mid-explanation.

“Awesome,” Rex said, relief and exuberance in his voice. “You are clutch, man. You are so clutch.”

Colin smiled at the compliment. “Need anything else?”

Rex cleared his throat, then said, “Um.”

Uh-oh. Rex never hemmed and hawed. The guy was the king of boldness.

“What is it? Just tell me.”

Rex sighed. “Shit, I hate to ask. But I need a ride tomorrow to the test. My mom is taking the car for a job interview, and Marcus’s ride is in the shop—his tires are being rotated. So he can’t drive us.”

“Us?” Colin asked, curiously. “He’s taking the math placement test, too?”

“Yeah. He heard I was taking it, so he signed up as well. He’s a f*cking math whiz though, just like you. He’s done all the studying on his own, and he’s trying to place into calculus or some shit like that. He’s trying to find a ride, but I just figured I’d take the initiative and ask you. I guess I could take Uber though.”

“No, you won’t take Uber,” Colin said with a wide grin. He was so damn grateful to be hearing this—that both boys were eager and ready to learn. “Tell me where to pick you up and I will gladly be your driver.”

Driver.

That word clanged loudly in his brain. His dad had been a limo driver and would have been proud of him—not for driving per se, but for helping the kids who needed it, especially when it came to math. His father had never gone to college, but he’d tried to work on his own number skills during the last year of his life, taking accounting classes at night school. Maybe Colin had picked up where his father had left off, carrying on his memory as the numbers guy of the crew.

Rex gave him the address, and Colin wrote it down. “Got it.”

His bell rang, sending Johnny Cash straight out of an evening snooze and into a brief bark-fest at the door. He headed to the entryway and peered in the peephole.

Even through the tiny window, Elle looked edible.

He glanced down, realizing he’d only managed to put on boxers.

So be it.

He opened the door as he finished his call with Rex. “I’ll be there at eight a.m. That work for you?”

“Absolutely. You’re the best,” Rex was saying as Elle stepped inside Colin’s home and mouthed “wow” as she raked her eyes over his hardly-dressed body.

“See you then.” He hung up, tossed his phone on the entryway table, and kissed her.

A soft kiss for a mere few seconds.

Then a hard and furious one that had hands wrapped around bodies and fingers diving into hair and breath coming fast from both of them. They were a collision of lust and heat. They clawed at each other, grasping, grabbing, needing contact. Fierce and fevered contact.

She giggled, breaking the kiss.

He shot her a curious look, and she pointed downward. Johnny Cash was licking her calf.

“I think he likes my lotion.”

“Is it eau de filet mignon?”

“No. It’s Body Shop. Satsuma oranges. All their stuff is made with no animal testing, so maybe that’s why he likes it.”

“Either that or he has scurvy.” He pointed to the living room. “Go lie down, Johnny Cash.”

The dog obeyed, trotting to the rug in front of the gray couch.

She gestured to his briefs. “Nice boxers,” she said, and he followed her gaze. She was staring at his erection, a full tent against the cotton fabric.

He gestured to her. All of her. “Nice everything.”

“Who are you meeting at eight a.m.?” she asked, as he reached for her hand and led her into his home.

“Rex. He needs a ride to take his math placement test tomorrow.”

She beamed. Absolutely f*cking beamed. Her whole expression lit up with the biggest smile he’d seen in ages. “That is so cool of you to do that. I’m so thrilled,” she said as she reached for his arm, running her fingers along his skin. “I love it when you help them. It kind of turns me on.”

“I’m taking Marcus, too. Does it turn you on twice as much that I’m driving two of them?”

She blinked. Once, twice, three times. Her face seemed to freeze, and her smile turned into a deletion.

He frowned, confused at the shift. “Are you okay?” She closed her eyes for a second, squeezed them hard, then pressed her fingers to her temple. “Elle. What’s going on?” he asked nervously.

She opened her eyes. “Sorry. Sometimes I get these headaches. It’s nothing.” She waved her hand as if to dismiss it. She reached for his shoulders, grasped them, and walked backward to his couch. “You know what really turns me on?”