Alpha Foxtrot (Offensive Line) by Tracey Ward

Author:Tracey Ward [Ward, Tracey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-03-13T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SUTTON

I’m playing hooky. I’ve never done that before. I feel like a criminal when I sneak out of the studio with Shane. Luckily, there’s no one around to see it.

“I’ll drive,” I offer, pulling my keys from my bag.

Shane laughs. “There’s no way in hell I can fit into your car. I’ll drive.”

I look at his Jeep glistening in the sun next to my Fiat. His car looks like a skyscraper in comparison, but he’s right. Even with the seat all the way back, his knees would be in his face inside my car. His is missing the doors and the roof again, and I can’t think of a single reason why he would keep it like that. Inside, the seats are black leather that have been roasting in the afternoon sun. They’ll be murderously hot against my bare legs, a feeling I’ll find divine. I can wedge my fingers between the seat and my legs and maybe, for once, they’ll feel warm.

Assuming I can get up inside the damn thing.

I stand at the passenger side looking everywhere for a handle or a step or some kind of purchase to help launch me up into this beast, but there’s nothing. This is a car built for a man Shane’s size. Not a woman little enough to fit inside the glove compartment.

“Let me help you,” he says from behind me.

Before I can argue, his hands are on my hips. His fingers wrap around me securely as he lifts me into the air and gently sets me down on the passenger seat. It’s as hot as I imagined, but not nearly as hot as the searing feel of his hands on me.

Shane touches me a thousand times a day when we’re dancing, but this feels different. It feels intimate as he helps me into his car. He’s not my partner right now. He’s not even the guy I made out with on the night of the first filming. Right now, he’s a man and I’m a woman, and I’m painfully aware of how large his hands are. How capable he is in everything he does.

I compartmentalize my entire life into easy to identify boxes. Work is the biggest, fullest one. But Shane barely fits inside that box. I can’t even think of how to build one large enough for him outside that context. And what would I name it? Guys I’ve made out with? Men I’d like to see naked?

I watch out of the corner of my eye as he steps up into the lifted vehicle like it’s nothing. The Jeep jostles under his weight, tossing me toward him.

“Do you have one of those...” He opens and closes his hand rapidly, like he’s trying to mime the words into existence. “A thing?”

I frown, assuming for some reason that he’s asking if I have a condom. “A thing?”

“You know, a hair thing.” He gestures to my hair hanging down over my shoulders. “A rubber band. It’s gonna get windy once we hit the road.

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