Page 18 of Changing Lanes

My lips quirk with the urgent need to yell out “that’s what she said” at my own inner dialogue.

Wow. I really am bored.

I catch movement from below and pull back to see a thin, dark figure walking to Paige’s Honda, recognizing her wavy mane before the helmet is yanked over it. Where is she going? This is her night off so I know she’s not going to work. Her bike starts up without issue—you’re welcome—and Paige is right, girl purrs like a cat in heat.

I feel my dick begin to stir for the first time all night. Carlson feels the change and starts pushing into me, chasing the hardness she’s been expecting. Poor dude almost deflates from the contact.

Heavy revving brings my attention back to my new roommate and I spot Paige popping into a flawless wheelie with her knee on the seat before burning out of the lot. Damn…

And now my cock is sticking straight up like an eager explorer searching for his next great discovery.

Carlson releases another moan.

Not that one.

I lean back, looking at the girl currently trying to constrict me for easier consumption, and…I can’t do it. Not with Medusa’s long-lost cousin anyway.

I help her to her feet, smoothing her dull blonde hair and say, “It’s not going to happen tonight.” The words taste foreign and I lick my teeth, feeling them out.

Nope, just like I thought, I don’t like ‘em.

But I like Carlson even less.

Her face screws up in confusion. She’s never been told no before and doesn’t know what it means.

“You’re really sweet-” like acid “-but I got shit to do.” Like floss my teeth. Or organize my shoes—all three pairs of them. Anything but continuing this charade with Miss Priss.

Confusion morphs to anger a second before she snaps, “I thought you were different. I already told my friends about you!”

Oh, shit. Stage five clinger alert.

This bomb’s about to explode in my face and I can’t even remember how I got here. Oh, yeah, Operation Forget Paige. Not all missions require you to hang off the side of an airborne plane, Tom. Some need a little more headwork. Those movies make it look so easy though.

“Hey,” I hush. Like seriously, pipe down. We have neighbors. Not that they care about the noise we make—not anymore thanks to Marc’s…deal with Kary, the apartment manager—but if they did, she’d be bothering them. Hell, she’s bothering me. “I never gave you any idea this was anything serious. The note you left for me basically said the same thing.”

“It said ‘call me’. That doesn’t mean I want a one-night stand.”

It doesn’t?

“I misunderstood then. My apologies. You can just take off.”

“What? You’re just kicking me out?”

I shrug, not knowing what else to say. I mean, how many times do I have to tell her? I’m just not that interested.

“Well, you asked me here for something, right? Why can’t we finish what you started?”

Her nails press into my wrists until it starts to bite and I fucking knew it. Chick is a serpent. I grow genuinely concerned her venom might infect my bloodstream if I don’t extract myself quickly enough. Not that it’s likely with my mind still stuck on a certain hot biker flying down the streets right now, making my blood practically boil as it runs hotter than it has in…ever?

I pull from her clutches, putting space between us.

“Sorry, I just can’t.”

“Why? Because I don’t have leather pants and ride a motorcycle?” she snarls.

I snort. Like that would help her chances.

“You think I didn’t see you eye fucking that skank all night?”