Are my budding feelings for Harry really so obvious that even people I’ve just met can read them?
“Grace?” Harry says now, jolting me back to the present. I realize we’re gliding down the road. Harry slows as we join the rear of the traffic, stopped at a red light.
“Sorry, I was in another dimension.”
“I said I hope you don’t think I’m done with you yet.” He smirks, looking at me out of the corner of his eyes.
His gaze flits down to my thighs, which I realize I’m gripping in nervousness. But I know he’s not thinking about nerves when he sees my fingers tight on my legs.
No way. Heck, Iknowwhat he’s thinking.
It’s the same thing I’m thinking.
I want his hands to grip me like this, holding on for dear life and then sliding higher, closer, just like he did in the dorm. But going further this time, both of us giving in to this desire that’s just getting harder and harder to ignore.
The light turns green and the family of four in front of us inches forward.
“Where are we going, playboy?” I ask.
He reaches across and tickles me on the side, playful. But also when his fingers inch closer to the side of my breasts, I don’t bat his hand away. I giggle like crazy and arch my back, giving more of myself for him, hardly even caring anymore.
“You’ll just have to wait to find out, won’t you?”
***
“Ahelicopter?” I gasp.
Harry brings the sedan to a stop on the wide open tarmac of the helicopter-ride place. Men in light green jumpsuits buzz around the one landed helicopter, one man underneath it, tinkering, his arm going back and forth.
I leap at Harry, slapping him on the solid surface of his arm, still sticky and hot from the climbing. I quickly yank my hand away before I just keep touching.
“You’ve gotta be fricking kidding me.”
“Nope,” he says, grinning.The sadistic bastard.“Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I remember,” I say.
We climb out of the car and close the doors. Harry rests his elbows on the roof, leaning over to me, one hundred percent the cocky douchebag. And I love it. Even if I should hate it.
“Well, what do you remember?” he growls, his sin-laden eyes bright with excitement.
The late-afternoon sun throws the huge shadows of clouds across the wide open tarmac, pockets of brightness appearing here and there. The air is dry and cool. It’s just too intimidating to think that in way-too-soon we’ll be up there among the clouds.
“It’s the Imagine game,” I say, flipping him the bird.
“Oi, what’s that for?” he laughs.
“Oi?”I echo. “Jeez, I don’t think you’ve ever sounded more British! Andthatwas for two reasons. The first is that you were just about to call me Nancy Drew.”
“How did you know that?” He chuckles, doing casual, standing push-ups on the edge of the car. It looks like something he does without thinking, but it draws my eyes to the tight folds of his arms.
“Because you always get this smartass look in your eyes before you call me it.‘Oh, Nancy Drew has cracked the case again.’”
He pushes again, this time standing up fully. “All right, fair enough. And the second reason?”
“Because youknowhow that Imagine session ended,” I snap. “You Imagined what it’d be like if you took me on a helicopter ride, making fun of me because you know I’m scared of heights. Sure, it was all in good fun … but even in a joking way, I told you I’d never have the courage to do it.”
“But you’re mine today,” he says, stalking around the jet-black hood of the car and coming to stand in front of me. “And I get to do anything I want with you. Plus, you’ve already proven how brave you can be. And you’re forgetting something about that particular Imagine.”
