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He gave her a look sharp enough to filet a girl alive, but he finally did as he was told. It was just her unfortunate luck that swapping seats with a giant man in a tiny car was a logistical nightmare.
Somewhere over the center console, her back got really acquainted with his chest, which was broad and hard and just delightful. Meanwhile, her butt was introducing itself to his… “Whoa, is that the gear shift, or are you just happy to see me?”
“Jesus Christ,” he grumbled as he grabbed her waist, lifted her off him like she was weightless, and deposited her (none too gently) in the driver’s seat. “It’s been a while, OK? Ignore it.”
Not likely. For a hot second there, she’d really thought it was the gear shift she’d been grinding on. If it wasn’t, then her kidnapper/captive was broad and hard and delightful all over.
Except his personality, of course. That was grumpy with a side of assholery.
Tenley adjusted the seat so she could actually reach the gas and brake (Cheekbones was practically driving from the back seat) and inched the Honda forward as two cars ahead of them in line were waved through the checkpoint. Then she grabbed her go-bag and pulled out her rubber-banded stack of driver’s licenses.
Thumbing through the first few, she finally settled on one of her old favorites. “I’m feeling Southern today,” she said.
Cheekbones was eyeing the stack of IDs like she’d just pulled a spitting cobra out of her bag. When his eyes lifted to hers, she asked, “Where’s the registration?” He popped the glovebox open and produced what she needed.
Poor guy looked like he might puke. She booped his nose with her index finger. “I got this. Trust me.”
He looked her dead in the eye and said, “No fucking way.”
She smiled until her cheeks hurt. “I guess you’re more than just pretty face, after all.”
* * *
He was going to die at a drunk driving checkpoint.
If the cops didn’t drag him out the car and beat his ass before sending what was left of him back to prison, his heart was going to give out. It could only pound like it was currently pounding for so long before it either burst out of his chest or exploded.
And at this point, he wasn’t sure what the damn thing was pumping because all his blood was currently in his dick.
Jesus. How had his dick noticed how pretty his crazy new co-pilot was before his brain or eyes had registered that data?
Honestly, pretty didn’t even begin to describe her.
She was tiny, but felt lean and strong in his arms. And her skirt was hiked up to mid-thigh, giving him a glimpse of bare, toned and tanned skin that looked like it’d be heaven to touch. Or taste.
But that was just her body. There was also that face to consider. High cheekbones, full, pouty red lips, stormy gray eyes…she was a stunner.
And now, she was all that stood between him and a one-way trip back to hell.
Beautifully dangerous. That’s what she was. Like a venomous snake. All bright colors and flawless beauty that you admired right before she sank her fangs into you.
The cop noticed her beauty much faster than Knox had. He strolled up the car with his stone cop-face in place, until he got a good look at the woman in the driver’s seat. His eyes lit up like the 4th of July.
She grinned up at him and said, “Well, hey, there, Officer. What are y’all doin’ out here tonight?”
Knox blinked over at her. Gone was the raspy-voiced, sharp-tongued woman he’d dragged into his car. In her place was a Southern belle with a lilting, musical voice so sweet it gave him a toothache just contemplating it. And that in combination with the angelic face, shampoo-commercial hair, doe eyes and lush mouth was damn near lethal. Officer Whoever was a goner.
“Just a sobriety checkpoint, ma’am. License and registration, please,” he said with a warm half-smile.
Knox had met way too many cops in his life, and he’d never seen one offer anyone a smile that friendly. But it wasn’t genuinely friendly. It was a predatory kind of friendly. The dumb bastard actually thought this woman was easy pickings.
Sucker.
She handed him the registration and let her fingertips linger on his skin a moment longer than was necessary. If she was anyone else, Knox would think it was an accidental brushing of hands. But he doubted this woman did anything without purpose.
“Here’s my license, Officer…” she paused, and Knox assumed she was reading the name tag on his uniform, “Knowles. But I need to warn you, this car is registered to my attorney.”
His eyes narrowed a fraction as he eyed her license. “Mrs. Wyles?”
