The reflection of his hand waving inside the car brings my eyes back into focus.
I can see that he’s been staring at me staring cross-eyed out the window for some time.
I feel my face flush with embarrassment, but the gleam of his perfect smile in the reflection as he gives another little side-to-side wave with the flat of his giant hand is impossible to ignore.
I know once I look I’m done for. But if this is how I have to go down…
I crane my neck around, feeling both my brows raise in a silent question.
I want to ask him a million things, would love to know a billion things about him.
But there isn’t time. And I’m half-wondering if this is some kind of wind-up. One of those shows where they put cameras in public places.
Filming chubby girls falling in love with strangers before the big reveal.
My eyes dart to our driver. But his eyes and mind are front and center, focused on the traffic.
“Would you mind opening up a little?” The same deep, sexy voice asks. Meaning I have to face him again.
I glance over greedily now, already wanting to see that face, those eyes.
He’s jutting his square jaw to my window.
“Little hot out, and this A/C isn’t so great…,” he observes.
I do as I’m told, pressing the button on the armrest, but nothing happens.
“Here,” he rasps, leaning over. His thick arm presses into my chest as he does.
He’s found a magic button or two of mine, but the window won’t go down.
“Windows broken,” Our driver says in an apologetic tone, but my man here isn’t in a hurry to resume his seat.
Not just yet.
I’m past hyperventilating by now, the air in and out of my nose like a bellows. My face flushed with that heat he mentioned.
The heat between my legs like a grease fire someone just threw a bucket of water at.
His body is pressed hard against mine, and it’s clear this guy has no concept of personal space. But having him so close, even though I’m so hot. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good. Not ever. And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel self-conscious at all.
Being this close to him is the most natural, most beautiful feeling in the whole world.
His face turns, our eyes only inches away. I can feel my heaving breath bouncing back to my face from his.
“Guess we’ll have to sweat it out,” he murmurs.
That little curl of his lip returns once I hear myself make another ridiculous little noise.
My head nodding like it’s on a spring.
He could be reading a recipe book and his words, that voice… it would be doing the same thing to me.
My smart ass, overdefensive attitude has well and truly evaporated by now.
But I’m still standing on the edge of that cliff on top of Mount what to say next.
If I’m just myself, he’ll run a mile. If I don’t say anything, I’ll look stuck up.