Page 27 of Raff
They were one of my vices.
I had a hard time turning them down when I came across them. They were almost singlehandedly to blame for why I had to do an extra hour of exercise per week.
“Got strawberry, chocolate, and salted caramel.”
“Salted caramel?” I asked, grabbing it and pulling it out. “Oh, my God. This is heaven,” I told him. “Though, I’m not entirely sure it was actually that good or just tastes that good because I haven’t had one in so long.”
I held the stick out to him, and he looked over, his gaze holding mine as he took a bite of the pop.
There was absolutely no reason for my stomach to twist the way it did. Or how somewhere decidedly lower reacted when his tongue flicked out to catch a bit of frosting from the corner of his lips.
“It’s actually that good.”
“What?” I asked.
That got a slow, devilish smile to spread across his face. “The cake pop.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah. Definitely would be my first choice.”
What the hell was that about?
I mean, yes, Raff was a really good-looking guy. Not my type, but gorgeous in an undeniable way. Also, it had been a really, really long time since I’d been with a man.
I hate to admit it, but there’d been a time when there’d been a sort of… flirtation between myself and Drake. I’d spent more time than I liked to admit fantasizing about us getting together, of building this giant empire, of making an unshakable foundation for us to build a future upon.
Though, looking back, I oddly never had actual sexual feelings toward him. It was all… potential and aesthetics. I wasn’t in bed thinking about his hands and lips all over me.
I’d imagined children. But never making them.
I didn’t remember a single moment where my belly tightened or… other parts of me reacted.
Yet, Raff—who I could see no future with—flicked his tongue at the corner of his mouth, and I was needing to press my thighs together to ease the growing ache.
What was that about?
“I expect you to assume all passenger princess duties,” he told me as he backed out of his spot.
“What do those entail?”
“You control the radio. And point out any cows.”
“Cows?” I asked with a huff of laughter.
“Cows. Pigs. Squirrels. Basically, you are the animal spotter and announcer.”
Damn him and his weird but endearing qualities. “I can point out cows.”
“Cool birds too.”
“Sure. If I see anything furry or feathered, I will point it out. What are you doing?” I asked when he paused at the edge of the lot.
“Can’t go until you buckle up. Gotta protect all of that.” He waved a hand down at me.
I buckled up, then dug for my sunglasses as he turned into town, hoping we wouldn’t be spotted by anyone who would come to conclusions I didn’t want them to.
But we made it through town without seeing anyone of significance, and I eased into my (very comfortable) seat.
“Squirrel,” I called as I reached for the dial to change the station.
