Drive Me Wild (Ridden Hard, #4)

by Allyson Lindt

  The speed increased until he slammed against her. He dropped one hand to tease her clit with his thumb. The new contact sent her into another orgasm. She clenched around him, not thinking about anything but now.

  The shift of his sounds told her he was close too. When Mason’s hands fell to her thighs, squeezing, and his breathing became short bursts she knew he was coming too.

  As the edge faded, they both slowed to a stop. She struggled to catch her breath and find her voice. She rolled off Mason to lie next to him, but kept her shoulder pressed to his. The contact was basic and pleasant.

  “First time you’ve ever said that?” she teased.

  “Said what?”

  “I’m done role-playing, let’s fuck.” And now she was the one sticking her foot in her mouth. Except she was doing it to push him away, not win him over.

  His laugh was strained. “I guess.”

  “I’m teasing. You know that, right?” She’d spoiled the mood, and it was too late to take her comment back. The buzz inside was too nice to lose.

  “I do.” He pulled away and sat up, not looking at her as he stripped off the condom and discarded it. “We should get some sleep. Long drive tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. Good call.” She forced her tone to stay light, despite the sting his brush-off left.

  It was better this way. One-night stands were status-quo, and Mason was just another guy. One she had to spend a few more days in a car with. No reason to let a misplaced doubt make this awkward.

  AS THEY HEADED OUT of town the next morning, they passed a local diner that boasted $1.99 Pancakes.

  Ginny nudged him. “I think I can swing that. You interested?” She was bright and chipper. It should be a relief, but it came off as forced.

  “Sure.” Mason, on the other hand, struggled to stay with the conversation. He was stuck on the night before.

  He pulled into an empty spot in front of the small shack, and they headed inside. The sign up front said they should seat themselves. “Come on.” Ginny grabbed his hand and tugged him toward a booth in the back.

  He tried not to react to the need that whispered through him. The desire to yank her back for a kiss. Something intimate and probing like what they shared before.

  Instead of indulging his rampant thoughts, he took a seat across from her.

  “How far do you think we’ll make it today? I’m thinking Texas. Can you believe I’ve never been? I don’t know why not. It just never happened.” Ginny paused and looked at him.

  “Probably Texas.” He should say more, but he was still stuck on their conversation. And the sex. God, the sex. Her heated skin against his. The intoxicating sounds she made when she was turned on. The way she tasted and squirmed when he buried his face between her legs.

  His cock was half-hard just remembering it.

  “Are there any historic or interesting stops along the way? You’ve made the trip before, right? You drove to and from Malibu? Should I have my phone ready for pictures?”

  Mason wasn’t too hung up on saying the wrong thing this morning. He understood part of her point the night before, but the whole arrogance versus confidence thing felt like a massive gray area that was open to interpretation. And he suspected talking to most women wasn’t going to be as easy as talking to Ginny. Admitting that almost gave him a headache.

  No, this morning he was focused on how wrong he read the entire situation last night. He’d been having some of the best sex of his life—God, how pathetic was that?—and she’d seen the exchange as so trite, she ended the entire thing with a weak joke and a brush-off.

  “It was night last time I drove through. I didn’t see much.” He couldn’t summon any enthusiasm.

  “Oh.” Her expression drooped, but cheer replaced it again so quickly he might as well have imagined it. “Now’s the perfect time to make up for it. Are you looking forward to it? I feel like such a tourist. But I’m excited.”

  “Excited is okay.” He might get sucked into the same thing if parts of it didn’t feel forced.

  He was grateful, then felt guilty about his relief, when the waitress interrupted. He and Ginny ordered the special and coffee.

  “I’m thinking about collecting something,” Ginny said when the older woman was gone. “Shot glasses or hats or something like that. From truck stops across the country, and hospital gift shops. That sounds morbid, doesn’t it? But if I’m hoping to visit different places.”

  “That’s cool.” He was sucking wind at this conversation thing.

  The problem was, he didn’t know what last night meant. But that wasn’t quite right. It was more that he didn’t know what he wanted it to mean. Mason had never been a casual sex kind of guy, and despite their conversation about not making assumptions, he assumed Ginny didn’t have any hang-ups about it.

  Was this sense of attachment because he’d never had a one-night stand before?

  “You’re not here. What’s going on in your head?” she asked. Of course she’d go and be direct about it.

  Might as well lay his cards on the table. Prove he’d listened when she spoke. “What was last night?”

  “I...” She bit her bottom lip. “Fun?”

  Not quite what he was hoping for. “I agree. Really agree.” His dick did too. “But was it more?”

  Ginny stared at her fingers. “I don’t know how it could be. It was good sex. I’m not just saying that, I really liked it. But we don’t know each other.” The way she put it was so logical.

  “We could get to.”

  “We are. Aren’t we? We have three more days of driving ahead of us. I assume we’ll either be best friends or mortal enemies at the end.” Her laugh was strained.

  See, you laugh because you want me to think it’s a joke, but part of you believes that mortal enemies bit. The thought echoed in his head in her voice. “Good point.”

  So much for sorting things out. But it wasn’t as though he was ready to profess his love, and he didn’t expect her to do that either.

  At the same time, he wanted assurance the sex wasn’t meaningless. That was pathetic, wasn’t it? Not at all the confidence she said was sexy. And now he cared what she thought again, and did that mean he was taking her feelings into account or trying to change for her?

  These rules were so confusing.

  Their food arrived. The silence wasn’t as heavy as it had been at dinner, but would all of their meals be this way? If they were going to ride a roller coaster of good and bad conversation until they hit California, they’d definitely never get to know each other.

  They paid—Ginny insisted on separate checks and he didn’t argue—and headed outside.

  His heart dropped into his stomach when his car wasn’t where they left it.

  It wasn’t as though he forgot. The street behind the diner wasn’t a complicated lot with several rows and levels. It was a fucking street.

  Everything that mattered was in that car. His laptop. His clothes. Mementos from his family.

  Anger and frustration built inside until he had to bite the side of his hand to keep from yelling in rage.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Mason growled and spun to face Ginny when she tapped him on the shoulder.

  She pointed at a sign a few feet away. No Parking This Side of the Street 8 AM-3PM

  His anger cranked another notch as embarrassment mingling with it. “You couldn’t have seen that an hour ago?”

  “I’m not the only one who missed it.” Her too-chipper attitude evaporated. “At least your car probably wasn’t stolen.”

  “Huzzah,” he said flatly. He should apologize for snapping. Being towed was almost worse than stolen, though. At least if someone took it, insurance might pay some of the cost. And they could... what? Hitchhike? Rent a car? Impounded was an expense he couldn’t afford.

  He dialed the number on the sign, and an automated voice started down a list of options. It wanted an address. He turned to Ginny. She was gone. Where the fuck did she go and where the hell were th
ey? He wandered toward a street sign.

  He took too long, and the system disconnected.

  Mason clenched and unclenched his fist several times, breathing through his nostrils, then called back. This time he had the address ready, but after telling the system Impound several times, it hung up on him again.

  The third time, he pressed 0 the instant the system answered.

  “I’m sorry. That’s not a valid option. Goodbye.” The line went dead again.

  “God damn it,” Mason shouted.

  “Mason,” Ginny said.

  He whirled on her. “What?”

  She stared back, lips pursed and eyebrows raised. “Our waitress says they usually just tow the cars a few blocks away. It’s easier than hauling them to impound, and it gets them out of the way.”

  “Which way?” He forced his anger under control. Please let this be true.

  He stalked off in the direction she pointed, and she followed close behind.

  Sure enough, his car was a few blocks over. Two tickets were on the windshield, but otherwise it looked exactly like they left it.

  He grabbed the parking violations and unlocked the doors. Neither of them spoke as he pulled back onto the freeway. He took several minutes to compose himself.

  “I’m sorry about losing my temper.” He was going to be apologizing to her forever at this rate. Fuck, he was sick of apologizing. He was sorry if it was his fault. He was sorry if it wasn’t his fault.

  “It’s cool. I get it.” And that cold, removed tone of hers was back. Was Ginny ever sorry?

  She turned up the radio. It wasn’t blaring, but it was loud enough to get across her point. I don’t want to talk.

  He needed to make things right. Again. What would Ginny’s advice be in a situation like this?

  Mason supposed if he either knew that or didn’t care, this wouldn’t be an issue.

  GINNY DIDN’T LIKE BEING yelled at, but if she’d been in Mason’s shoes, would she have reacted any better? If he’d been with her when she found out her debit card was stolen, she probably would have ripped him a new one, and then come back for a second round.

  She couldn’t take three more days of this tension. She turned the music down. “How many times can we start over before it gets old?”

  “If we’re not at old yet, does it matter?” He sounded tired.

  “I’m sorry about last night.” She didn’t know where the apology came from. “Not the sex bit, I meant it that I had fun. What I said after.”

  “Are you?” Mason sighed. “Sorry. Or not sorry. Or, you know what? I don’t fucking know.”

  Even when he was frustrated, he was sexy. The day’s worth of scruff on his chin. The gravel in his voice. Those strong, powerful hands.

  And lusting after him wouldn’t get them anywhere. Then again, denying her attraction wasn’t helping either. “Believe it or not, I don’t know what to say next.” The confession was terrifying. “I just know I don’t want you mad at me. I can’t even say why. Or maybe I can. Because I like you when you’re not mad at me. Because I feel like a cunt when you are.”

  His mouth twisted into an unformed smile. “Now you know how I feel.”

  Ouch. But, “That’s fair. Can we start over? Again?”

  “No.”

  The sharp response caught her off-guard. “Why not?”

  “I’d keep the memories—good and bad—and try for fewer bad moving forward.”

  “I like that idea.” Enough that she wished she’d thought of it herself. “Can we move forward?”

  “I guess that remains to be seen.”

  She could work with that. “I was serious earlier about the photos. Anything I want to have my phone out for?”

  “There are a lot of gas stations and flat land. But if there’s beauty out there, you’re the one to spot it.”

  The compliment warmed her, and pushed aside some of her lingering doubt. “You do know how to make a lady feel special.” She poured on the heavy drawl. Was that too much? Great. Now he had her questioning herself.

  Is that a bad thing?

  It was if it unraveled the person she’d worked so hard to become.

  This time his smile formed completely. “Glad I could be there for you.”

  Her phone rang, interrupting the music and conversation. “Hang on,” she said as she swiped Answer. “Hello?”

  “Virginia?”

  “This is she...” Ginny always got nervous when people used her full name.

  “This is Andrea at First Southern and Trust. I wanted to let you know, we’ve received your dispute for the fraudulent charges, and we’ve finished processing everything.”

  Hope sparked inside, but Ginny didn’t dare grasp it. “What does that mean?”

  “We’ve reversed all the charges. Your money is back in your account.”

  Yay. The little voice cheered in her head. “I thought it was supposed to take ten days.”

  “That’s our policy,” Andrea said. “We say that in case there are delays, but it usually only takes a couple of days.”

  It would have been nice to know that before Ginny hopped in this car. She would have waited and splurged on the plan ticket. She didn’t dare ask if the expedited processing had anything to do with the reaming she gave the bank manager. This was the kind of gift she wouldn’t argue.

  She studied Mason’s profile as he drove. Besides, she didn’t want to take back the last few days, even with the lows. “Thank you,” she said to Andrea, and disconnected.

  A new thought occurred to her. She didn’t have her card—it was waiting for her at her new apartment and her bank only had local branches. It was a sobering realization, but it didn’t kill her good mood. She’d have money as soon as she got to her new home.

  “That sounded potentially good.” Mason glanced at her.

  She relayed the short conversation.

  “That’s awesome.” His joy sounded tentative.

  She’d take tentative, if it became more. “Too bad I can’t spend it.”

  “You could wire some of it to me, and I can withdraw it for you. I get notifications when I get deposits, so as soon as the money goes through, we can find a gas station with an ATM.”

  Ginny hesitated. It was a bad idea to hand over hundreds of dollars to anyone. Especially a guy she’d only known a few days, and spent as much time arguing with as they did talking.

  “Unless you don’t trust me.” Mason’s hurt was obvious.

  “It’s not that.” She did trust him. At least with this. Was that smart? “I’d actually love to do that. Thank you for the offer.”

  “I’ll give you the money first, if it makes you feel better,” he said.

  She adored that was his solution. It was another example that he was genuine, and not just putting on a show. “You don’t have to do that. Give me your info, and I’ll call my bank back.”

  Ginny phoned in the transfer. The impulse surged inside to ask if the process can be reversed. She was relieved when the teller offered the information without Ginny asking.

  As she hung up, she felt better than she had... since last night?

  That wasn’t right. Last night with Mason definitely ranked above this. She didn’t understand why, but that connection was a one-of-a-kind experience.

  He turned the music up again. She was hurt until he started singing along to the song.

  She couldn’t fight her grin. He wasn’t doing it to drown her out. He was in as good a mood as she was. He wasn’t the greatest singer ever, but he had a nice voice, and she wasn’t exactly Beyoncé.

  A couple of hours later, his phone chirped. He shifted in his seat, pointing his hip toward her. “Phone’s in my pocket, if you want to see if that’s for you.”

  She grabbed the device.

  He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth when she brushed his thigh through the thin lining.

  They could have a lot of fun if she drew the teasing out. Nothing to make him drive off the road. Though if he were to hea
d for the nearest truck stop, she knew a lot of discreet ways to draw out sexual tension.

  It was tempting, but she could control herself until they were at least closer to center.

  Mason gave her his code, and she punched it in. Sure enough, there was the text letting him know a deposit had been applied to his account.

  “Next gas station, coming up,” he announced.

  She slipped his phone back into his pocket, this time intentionally dragging her fingers along his upper leg.

  “Hey, now.” He gave a hoarse chuckle and captured her fingers. He held on longer than was needed.

  Ginny didn’t mind. She wasn’t going to dwell on the fact that she was getting giddy about holding hands. She’d rather focus on the flutter behind her ribs when he traced lazy circles along her skin with his thumb.

  They pulled into a gas station with several rows of pumps for both private vehicles and tractor trailers.

  On the opposite side of the building from the commercial pumps was a pavilion with several tables underneath.

  Mason found the ATM and a moment later, handed Ginny a stack of twenties. She peeled a few off the top and gave them back.

  His smile wavered. “What’s this for?”

  “Dinner last night and the hotel room.”

  A frown slid in. “I don’t expect you to pay me back. I meant it when I said the night was on me.”

  “I don’t...” Her argument wouldn’t come. It was her expectation, not anything he’d said, that made this feel necessary. When people did her favors, they expected something in return. So far, Mason hadn’t treated her that way. “At least let me buy the snacks here, and pick up the dinner tab tonight. I feel temporarily rich and want to splurge.”

  His lack of response made her chest constrict. “All right,” he finally said. “But we split the cost of the room.”

  “Deal.” She shook his hand.