Page 35 of Detour

I reach for the handle but Coty blocks me with his hand. This can’t be happening. If my boss sees this, he’ll either fire me or expect the same treatment and I honestly don’t know which is worse.

Next, scrambling for the center console, Coty thwarts my attempt by wrapping an arm around my middle effectively gluing me to his lap. The side sprayers kick on, hiding us from view under the constant stream of water.

Barking out a humorless laugh, I lean forward so I can look at him. There’s no way he could’ve managed this in his Camaro. He knew what he was doing when he brought Beckett’s ride.

Although his outfit is still impeccable, he now has an all-black hat, slightly crooked, over his previously styled hair. The bad boy side that was merely peeking through before is currently in full view. He’s wearing an unapologetic smirk and damn if I don’t feel like making him sorry.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He counters my question with one of his own. “Guess who I just ran into?”

I shrug, having no idea who we could possibly have in common.

“Your boy Drew.” Coty leans forward, lowering his hands on my hips, making it difficult to concentrate. “And his girlfriend.”

Who? Wait, what?

“Yeah, funny story. He was all over some blonde chick and when I got in his face—you know, to defend your honor—she jumped in to explain the situation. That your friend Drew is her boyfriend and that you two have never even dated. Dude wasn’t very forthcoming but he agreed with everything she said.” He waits a beat then accuses, “You lied to me.”

A harsh laugh escapes me as I shake my head, feeling my fishtail braid brush the glass from the movement.

“I never said he was my boyfriend. I went along with insinuations you guys made all on your own. I didn’t disagree when you made the stupid assumptions, yeah, but I never lied. I moved in next to three grown men who party, ride motorcycles, and are always in my business. What the hell did you expect me to do? Wave a red flag in front of myself saying ‘easy target here’? I don’t think so.”

I study the rainbow soap coating the windshield. The incredibly fruity aroma with a distinct chemical undertone—a smell I should be accustomed to, but the fresh air usually helps to cut the detergent’s strength down significantly—now threatens to overwhelm my senses.

Coty crowds my back with his muscular chest, surrounding me. His signature scent overpowers the soap, helping me to easily drown in him instead.

“Bullshit. You wanted to make me jealous.”

I close my eyes, trying to trick my mind into thinking this isn’t really happening. Not here. Not now. “Why would you be jealous, Coty? I thought we were friends.” We were totally nailing that whole friend thing by the way.

“You know why.”

Fine, maybe we weren’t nailing the whole friend thing after all.

“What’s your plan here? To make me pay for some lie you think I fed you? You have less than a minute…” I cock my eyebrow in the rearview mirror, letting that thought sink in.

“Babe, I’d close this whole fucking place down if I wanted to teach you a lesson.” I could call his bluff but I’m not out of moves yet. “Go for a ride with me.”

His breath fans across my neck, producing goose bumps. Everywhere.

“No.”

Coty stomps on the brake just as the mitter curtain covers the entire front end, darkening the inside of the car. The tire goes over the roller, activating the alarm. The alarm is meant to stop an accident from happening if cars on the belt at the same time are close together and one jumps a roller. It shuts down the entire conveyor belt until someone can clear it for restart. He essentially just bought himself a couple more minutes, at least.

He’s smart, I’ll give him that.

His hands glide lower, causing me to wiggle with an ache that’s settled between my legs. He pushes down on my bare thighs, groaning for me to stop moving.

“Come for a ride with me. Please,” he murmurs again, this time against my cheek. He’s now wrapped around my entire back until I don’t know where I end and he begins. His touch is too much and not enough all at the same time, and I fight the urge to beg, shamelessly, for more. Or less. Anything to make this needy ache go away. He’s everywhere but where I don’t want to need him. His spicy coconut musk surrounds me much like the foam still surrounding the vehicle and I can barely function at this point.

“Why?”

“I want to show you something,” he pleads. Massaging my inner thighs brings me in even harder on his erection. At least I’m not the only one affected by this grinding.

Friendsville made for a nice rest stop and all, but it looks like we’re back on the road to something much, much more intimate.

I’m damn near panting as I try to clench my thighs together, however the steering wheel in the way forces my legs to stay spread apart. I scoot forward, anything to get some control back—if I ever had any to begin with—but Coty holds me firmly in place. I shift again because he’s right there and it’s taking everything in me not to start this ride he keeps asking for here and now.