We walked past the four-car garage that housed Ream, Kite’s, Kat’s and Crisis’ cars, but we failed to stop. Where were we going? We walked past the barn, empty of horses as they were all out in the pastures. I skidded to a halt, the gravel rolling beneath my feet as I saw exactly where we were headed.
Crisis stopped and turned. “What?”
“A lawn mower?” I choked out.
He shrugged then walked into the shed and threw his leg over the driver’s seat and started it up. It took a few tries before it smoked, rattled and puttered, then crawled toward me.
I stood staring at the little ride-on mower, Crisis sitting on it wearing his baseball cap and worn-out jeans with holes in the knees. Knees bent too high on the machine because he was so tall. It was ridiculous. The hot rock star with tats and the most stunning ripped body was driving a shitty lawnmower and he still exuded hot.
It was so ridiculous that I laughed. My smile widened first, then a strange bubbling in my chest that stole my breath and locked down in the center of my core as the sound emerged.
I laughed until my stomach cramped and my eyes watered.
The mower shut down beside me.
Crisis leaned back in the green plastic seat and crossed his arms over his chest. The tightness around my mouth felt funny as I stopped laughing and smiled. It was weird, smiling and laughing. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d laughed or felt the lightness hit me in the chest like it did now.
He cocked his leg and rested his foot up on the frame, appearing casual and relaxed but his eyes . . . they were intense as they drove into me. My smile faded and a tingling flared between my legs as I stared at him. We were both silent for a moment, merely watching one another, assessing maybe.
“When you laugh . . .” he paused as if thinking about it, “it’s like being handed a piece of you that no one else has ever seen.”
Those words held more truth than he could ever know and I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t.
He re-adjusted his hat that didn’t need re-adjusting then shifted to perch up on the back of the seat. “Come on, let’s get you driving.”
“Okay.” I slid onto the hard seat and was instantly aware of his thighs next to my shoulders and my head close to his abdomen, and therefore cock. I swallowed as the sensation in my sex intensified and I clenched, which only made it worse.
He leaned forward, his chest up against my back and my breath hitched. “You need to press down the clutch with this leg.” He put his hand on my thigh to indicate which one and I nearly shot out of the seat. “Whoa, what’s wrong with you? You’re all jumpy and shit.”
“I’m fine. Just nervous.” I added, “To drive.” But, I wasn’t nervous about driving. I was nervous of him, because what I was feeling was more than I knew how to handle.
Crisis was taking this seriously, so I tried to ignore what my body was doing and pressed the pedal like he said.
“Now, turn the key. But don’t let go of the clutch until it starts.”
I looked around for the key and saw it in the ignition to the right of the steering wheel. The mower started easily and I was giddy as it vibrated underneath me.
“The gears are a little tricky for timing,” he explained. His chest rubbed against me again as he showed me the three gears. “The brake is on the other side, but if you stop completely, you need to press the clutch at the same time or it will stall.”
Too much information, but I learned to shoot a gun from merely watching Olaf with his, for Christ’s sake. This couldn’t be too hard. Clutch. Gear. Gas. That was all I had to remember.
“Okay, let’s go, sweetness.” His hands rested lightly on my shoulders and, normally, I hated hands on my shoulders. But Crisis’ hands were steady and calming—reassuring. I pressed the clutch, and jammed the gear into first. “Not so rough. It should slide right in.”
Oh, damn. I pictured him above me, his cock sliding in and there was nothing vile about it. I abruptly let go of the clutch and the mower violently jerked.
“Fuck,” Crisis shouted.
I turned around to see Crisis on his butt on the grass behind the mower, his hand to his cheek. I bit my lip to stop from laughing, but a giggle and smile did escape as I looked at the cocky rock star on his ass looking a little dazed.
I realized that the mower was getting further away from him as it continued to creep forward.
“Crisis.” I cranked on the steering wheel with both hands, turning it as far as it would go as it puttered straight for the stable wall. It was a slow crawl but, slow or not, it would still crash into a wall. I looked down at the two pedals and the gear. Crap, I forgot what he said about stopping.
“Crisis? How do I stop it?” There was a loud grinding sound as the mower scrapped the side of the barn.
He appeared beside the mower and my eyes widened when I saw the big red mark on his cheekbone. “Knee to the face when I went over backwards. Anyone asks, I’m telling them you punched me,” he said. I bit my lip smiling. He kept pace with the mower and grinned. “You sure know how to knock a guy off his feet.”
I rolled my eyes and he laughed. He hopped up onto the mower and brushed against me as he slid in behind to perch up on the backrest again. “Okay, let’s get driving this piece of junk.”
His finger brushed back my hair from my neck and goose bumps played havoc along my skin. I wanted to turn around and look at him to see if he noticed, but I was afraid of him seeing what was raging through me.