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My mouth purses and he grins. “But we can discuss it after coffee. I can’t fucking think until I have caffeine in me.”
“Of course, Matty.”
My cheeks flush at the nickname, so I turn away to hide my red skin. It’s too much. Coop is too fucking much. With his touches and nicknames and terms of endearment. It makes my heart swell and stutter, and I’m left a blushing mess. It doesn’t help that his ass is confusing me as well.
I came to the thought of it less than an hour ago. But I’m not gonna think about that right now. Right now, I’m going to focus on coffee.
When our order is finally set on the counter, I grab it eagerly and take a frantic sip, some spilling down my chin in the process.
“Such a heathen,” Coop says, grabbing a napkin and helping me mop myself up. “Slow down, straight boy. You’re not a barbarian.”
“I could be,” I tell him, and he grins at me.
“Oh, I can imagine that. Anytime you want to be a barbarian with me, just say the word.”
My head shakes with a laugh. “Fuck off, asshole.”
He waggles his eyebrows at me as we make our way to the parking garage where Coop’s car is parked. With a flick of his wrist, he hands me the keys.
“Wanna drive?”
I stare at him and wet my lips. “You told me on the way here that no one drives your baby but you.”
“But you’re my husband. You don’t count.”
“Stop reminding me,” I reply, eagerly grabbing the keys and opening the door of his Bentley. I knew this car was nice when I first sat in it. But behind the wheel, I realize just how luxurious this bad boy really is.
Can’t wait to drive it home. Not that I’ll tell Coop that. It’ll just give him one more thing to hang over my head. He’ll probably put it on my tab. Who knows how much this drive will cost me? Another week with him? Another month?
I honestly don’t care as I steer it onto the highway that leads back toward Orange County. Coop rests his bare feet on the dashboard as he scrolls his phone, not a care in the world.
“You know, if we get in an accident, your legs will break in half,” I tell him.
“Then don’t get in an accident,” he snarks but then sits up a little straighter. “I do love my legs. They’re quite lovely.”
My eyes flick down to them, and I swallow. Yeah, they kind of are.
Not that I say that. No, I just tuck that thought into the back of my head.
“You could break your penis too,” I add.
He glowers at me. “Geez, make a statement why don’t you.” But it works. His feet lower onto the floor.
“Just so you know, I just checked the register in Vegas and we aren’t listed as married yet. I’ll check again later.”
“Cool,” I murmur, keeping my eyes on the road. I have to pay attention out here. It really is the Wild West. As soon as we leave the city, people are gunning it. Everyone must be doing a hundred miles an hour. Even the truckers are pedal to the metal. I speed up to keep up with traffic.
“You’re gonna get a ticket,” Coop tells me when he peers up from his phone. “Been there, done that. It’s quite expensive.”
“I’ll be fine,” I murmur, loving the power his car has. It’s much better than the Toyota Corolla I drive back home. Well, drive is using the word loosely. It clunks along and is so old that the steering wheel shakes when I hit forty miles per hour. This car, right here, is a dream, the way it purrs down the highway.
Sue me.
I was built for speed.
And apparently the highway patrolman thinks so too. Twenty minutes later, flashing lights behind me have me pulling over onto the shoulder of the freeway, Coop chuckling knowingly beside me.
“Oh, Matthew.”
