“Asshole,” I mutter and then turn to look at August with a smirk. “Lex made us a sex playlist. There are…” My eyes rove down the list. “Probably over fifty songs on here.”
“A sex playlist?”
“You know, music to fuck to. I don’t know about you, but I don’t need fifty songs to come. Maybe one. Two, if I’m lucky. I get way too excited. Can’t quite contain myself.”
August’s cheeks pinken a little at my confession, and he quickly looks away.
He keeps his hands on the steering wheel, right at ten and two the entire time, like a fucking grandpa. His eyes don’t move from the road either. They just stay laser-focused on the horizon the entire drive.
I wonder what that’s like.
My focus is a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors. I don’t know up from down most days.
I turn the volume up a little and bob my head some more.
“So, what the fuck are we going to do in the mountains for a whole week?” I ask, biting down on the sucker, and it cracks loudly.
I’m chewing on it when August glances over at me with his big green eyes and shrugs. “You don’t ski or snowboard, do you?”
“Nope, never had the chance to learn. My mom was too busy sticking needles in between her toes to take me to the snow. Wasn’t a priority. I’ve actually never seen snow; can you believe it? I am kind of excited though. I want to build a snowman. Hey August…”
“Don’t do it,” he says.
“Do you want to build a snowman? It doesn’t have to be a snowman. Ok, fiiiiiine,” I say with a sing-song voice and a shit-eating grin.
“Jesus,” August says with a huff and I can see his mouth twitch with a hint of a smile. “You like to talk a lot, don’t you?”
“Always,” I reply, leaning back and stretching a little, my shirt sliding up my stomach a little. “And I have a filthy mouth. You should really see it in action. It’s impressive.”
August clears his throat, and I eye him again as his face flushes. I thrill at the fact I’m getting to him, breaking down his cool demeanor slowly. This is going to be a fun week.
He bites his lip and fuck is he hot…in a Mr. Rogers kind of way.
I mean, he doesn’t wear the cardigans, but he does in spirit. He probably sings to the children he teaches and memorizes inspirational quotes in his free time. I’m sure he has some creepy puppets in his closet too.
I shudder and glance down at my tattooed hands. Then I look over at his smooth, unblemished, and untainted skin.
“Hey, bro. You have any tattoos?”
I know.IknowI’m ridiculous, but I’m curious. Maybe he has one hidden somewhere sexy, like on his ass cheek or right above his dick. Golden boy with a secret. Gets me all hot and bothered.
“No,” he replies.
“That’s a shame,” I say and then pull up my shirt and tug my pants down a little. His eyes slide quickly over to my skin and widen, and I feel it, his gaze on me. It’s tangible. My dick twitches in my pants a little.
“Got this one to fill in still. What do you think? Thought it was kind of fun.”
August rolls his lips between his teeth as he takes in the large intricate design on my hip and then focuses back on the road.
“I’m driving. I’d need a better look.”
Oh, does he now?
I bite back a smile and then lean forward and grab another sucker. I unpeel it and stuff the wrapper into the door handle before saying, “Anytime. All you gotta do is ask. Which ones do you want to start with first? I have themeverywhere.”
He ignores me, and I huff a small laugh. Because for real, if I ended up naked in front of him and those hands of his on my skin, I’d probably come in ten seconds flat. I wasn’t kidding about the length of the songs. I have like, minimal stamina. It’s practically nonexistent.
Plus, this is August.