The Seduction(4)
Author: Carly Phillips

Electricity sizzles up my arm, zaps my brain, and settles into strategic body parts no man has reached before. “We can’t leave him here.”

“Unless you want me going to jail for defending you, you’ll put your sweet ass in my car.”

I frown at him. “I can drive myself home.”

“I take it you didn’t notice he also slashed your tires?”

“What?” I suck in a shallow breath, a combination of anger and disbelief shooting through me. I stalk to my car in the dark corner and bend down near the tires. Now I notice the flats.

“Seriously?” That ass**le. I perch my hands on my hips. “How did he know which car was mine?”

A sexy smirk lifts Hot Guy’s mouth. I really wish I didn’t notice, but even with little lighting, how can I not?

“You’re the only one in that bar who reeks of money. Even in that waitress outfit, it’s obvious you have class.”

I find myself oddly flattered. I hear my parents telling me that I’m too stupid because I trust too easily. And this guy’s proven he’s dangerous. But he was dangerous on my behalf…

Still. I shore up my defenses.

“Come on. Get your sweet ass into my truck,” he says. Another order. “I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

With no choice, I nod. “Fine. I’m safe in my dorm room.” Except I remember my roommate won’t open the door and let me in. I also don’t want Hot Guy to know where I live. Safety first, after all. I mentally roll my eyes considering I’m already in over my head.

I chew on my lower lip. “You can just drop me off outside my friend’s place,” I say, changing my mind.

He lets out a frustrated groan. “We can debate this on the road. But I’m not just dropping you anywhere. I’ll make sure you get inside safely.” He prods me toward the other side of the lot, settling his hand on my lower back.

Forget zaps. Laser points of heat settle between my thighs. I really thought I was past responding to any man. But Hot Guy isn’t just any man.

“Before I get into that truck with you, I need to know your name.”

He shot me an exasperated look. “Zach.”

“Do you have a last name, Zach?” I annoy him with my question. It might have been on purpose, but I really do need his name. Of course, since I can’t tell anyone else his name, I might be taking it to my grave. But I don’t think so.

Yes, I am going with the instincts that made me a  p**n  star.

“Anders,” he grits out. Then, before I know what’s happening, he lifts me up and carries me the rest of the way to his truck.

“Hey!” I slam my fists against his back, but he’s strong, and it doesn’t faze him.

“I’ll beat a man up for you, but I’m not going to prison because you want to talk my ear off.” He leans over, pulls the seat belt, and snaps it in place.

He smells delicious, like musky, sexy man, and I do my best not to sigh in approval.

He puts the key in and turns the ignition. The truck roars to life, and he starts out of the parking lot. I immediately give him the address to Robin’s apartment. Then I take out my phone and dial.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling 911.”

He slaps a hand to his head, grumbling something I miss. I anonymously report the beaten-up man in the parking lot and disconnect the call.

“Feel better?” he asks.

“Yes. At least he’ll get medical help.” I glance out the window, too aware of the man’s large presence in the front cab of the truck.

“She’d have to be an angel,” he mutters. He grips the wheel harder, winces, and eases up.

“Does it hurt?” I ask softly, knowing his hands must be sore. He defended me, and I haven’t thanked him.

“I can handle it.”

I want to help. “Do you happen to have a first-aid kit in here?” I open the glove compartment and am surprised when I find one. I pull out some antibiotic cream and gauze.

He ignores me.

A few minutes later, he pulls up to Robin’s address and parks the truck. I know he intends to walk me to the door, so I reach for him first. “Let me see.”

His hand is so much bigger than mine, long fingers, calloused from work, and he’s warm to the touch. I turn his palm down and run my hand over his bruised knuckles.

He sucks in a breath. Shudders as if he’s affected by the contact. And suddenly I’m hot too.

“You didn’t have to go that far with him,” I say, speaking of the beating he gave the other man. I lift Zach’s hand and blow gently on the battered skin, hoping to remove any dirt before I dab some cream onto a gauze pad.

“He shouldn’t have touched you,” he says in that tough voice.

“Why do you care?” I swallow my fear and ask the question that’s been lingering on my mind for weeks. “Why do you watch me but never sit at my station? Never talk to me?” Until tonight.

He hesitates. “Conflicting desires,” he finally says, the words a puzzle.

I look up, confused. I expect to see his green gaze on me, but he’s staring out the window into the dark night. I wonder what he means, what tears him up inside, but I don’t ask. It seems too personal, and if he wants me to know what he’s thinking or feeling, he’ll say.

I take in his strong profile, noting that even when he’s scowling, which is most of the time, he’s handsome, in a gruff, take-no-prisoners kind of way.

 “You’re hot, Princess.”

I blink, surprised at his sudden admission. Embarrassed and pleased at the same time.

“I don’t like that dark parking lot. I kept an eye out until I knew you were safely in your car.”

Oh. My. Stalkerish or sweet? Maybe a little of both. I’m intrigued by him. I force my attention back to his hands and gently wipe the antibiotic cream onto his knuckles. Taking care of his injuries is the least I can do to repay him for saving me.

I lean down and blow on his hand again. His big body trembles, and I suppress a grin. I like knowing I can affect him too.

Finished with my lame attempt at first aid, I crumple the gauze in my hand.

“Just leave it. I’ll throw it out later.”

I manage a nod and get ready to leave. “I can wave from the doorway.” I gesture to the walk-up building where my friend lives. I’d texted her earlier to let her know I’d be coming. Too late, I realize I left my bag for the morning in my car. Nothing I can do about it now.