Now she paused, tugging on his hand to stop them. “You wouldn’t trust me with your precious classics?”
“Not on your life. I’m the only one who drives those babies.”
“What happens when you get married someday and your wife wants to tool around in that GTO? Are you going to tell her the same thing?”
“Hell yes. I don’t want some woman, fresh from her manicure, getting pink nail polish on one of my cars.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s a good thing I brought that up. You’ll have to be sure to have the no-driving-the-muscle-cars entered into the prenup.”
He went quiet. She wondered if the whole marriage and prenup thing was a sore spot for him in some way.
“Uh oh. I hit a sore spot, obviously. Have you ever been serious enough to get close to marriage?” she asked.
He grinned. “No sore spot at all. I’m just making a mental note about no-driving-the-cars in the prenup. And no, I’ve never gotten remotely close to marriage yet. Have you?”
“No. But believe me, I’ve got my prenup already planned out.”
He turned to her. “You do?”
“Hell yes. I have to protect all those assets in my nine-hundred-square-foot apartment. No way is some guy going to get his greedy hands on my George Washington Chia pet.”
He laughed, then grabbed her around the waist. “Smart-ass.”
She squealed as he picked her up and held her above the water, threatening to drop her into the waves. But then he put her down in the sand, and looked at her.
“What would you like to do now?”
She gave him a grin. “How about a tour of those cars in your garage?”
SIXTEEN
ONE BY ONE, GRAY LIFTED THE COVERS OFF HIS MUSCLE CARS. First the ’69 Mustang, followed by the ’70
Firebird, the ’67 Chevelle, the ’69 Charger Hemi, and finally the ’68 Shelby GT. With each reveal, Evelyn gasped with delight.
He had to admit, secondary to racing, these cars were what fueled him. He didn’t take much pride in possessions, frankly could give a shit if he lived in a multimillion-dollar house on the beach or a one-bedroom apartment somewhere. Material things didn’t matter to him. But these cars did, because they represented the one thing he enjoyed the most—fast cars.
“Can I get close?” she asked.
“You can touch. Don’t worry about it.”
She ran her fingers across the hood of the Chevelle, almost reverently. She turned to him. “When I was in college, there was this one guy in my government class who had a car similar to this one. He’d drive it to class every day and when I was walking along, I’d hear the roar of the engine. It never failed to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I had to cross the parking lot to get to the building, so I found myself lingering outside and waiting for him to show up just so I could see him pull that car into the lot.”
He leaned against one of the cars. “So, you had a thing for him, huh?”
She laughed. “No, I had a thing for his car.”
“Did you go out with him?”
“No. I was very . . . bookish back then, very much into focusing on school and not so much on guys. But oh, he had a hot car.”
“That’s what I keep telling you. You missed out on having some guy take you riding at high speeds in a muscle car.”
She threw a gaze over her shoulder at the Chevelle. “You could rectify that now, you know.”
He loved that she shared his passion for these cars, even if she wasn’t yet aware of it. “Sure. Choose one.”
She didn’t even hesitate. She pointed to the Chevelle “This one. Definitely.”
“You got it.” He walked over and pulled the keys off the rack. “Slide on in.”
Her cheeks pink with excitement, she slid into the passenger seat while Gray hit the garage door button. Lap belt fastened, he put the car into gear and backed out, then drove onto the highway, knowing exactly what stretch of deserted road he could take her to. When he pulled off, the road was pitch black.
“Where are we going?”
“Nowhere special,” he said, then downshifted, let out the clutch, and hit the gas, cranking up the speed, conscious of his surroundings. No one was ever on this road.
He’d tested the cars on it before, so he knew he had smooth sailing for the next several miles.
He got it up over a hundred and twenty, pretty slow by his standards, but by the time he slowed it down to under sixty, he took a glance over at Evelyn. She had a death grip on the seat and the armrest and her cheeks were dark pink. He pulled to a stop.
“Okay?” he asked.
She slowly turned her head to face him. “Oh. My. God.”
He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, at least until she broke into a wide grin and asked, “Can we do that again?”
He laughed. “Sure. I’ll turn around and we’ll hit it on the way back.”
He downshifted again, then cranked the speed up, this time going a little faster.
Sure, he was showing off for her, but he also knew the capabilities of this car and wouldn’t do anything to overstress the engine. By the time he slowed it down, she had her hand on his thigh and was clutching tight.
“You okay?” he asked with a short laugh as he pulled to the side of the road.
“Honestly? It made me wet.”
Which made his dick instantly hard. “How wet?”
She gave him the kind of direct look a man definitely paid attention to. “You have a condom on you and I’ll show you how wet.”
Thank God he had shoved one into the pocket of his jeans before they went out tonight—just in case something like this might come up. And something was definitely up. He turned off the engine, jammed his foot on the emergency brake, and shoved his hand into his pocket, retrieving the condom. “It just so happens . . .”
She slid off her sandals and unbuttoned her shorts. “How alone are we out here?”
He unzipped his jeans. “Alone enough. Get those shorts off and get over here.”
It was a flurry of activity as he shifted the seat back as far as it would go while Evelyn shimmied out of her shorts and panties. She grabbed the condom packet from his hands and tore the wrapper open while he pulled his c**k out and shrugged his jeans and boxer briefs down far enough to pull out his cock.
She got the condom on him, giggling as she did. “I feel like a teenager, only I never did any of this when I was a teenager.”