Chapter 4
Seriously.
There had to be a way to shut him up.
A way—that preferrably—didn't include me using my cock to do it. Because somehow I thought the little shit would enjoy that just a bit too much.
Not to mention, it would probably mean a few more sticky feelings than I was truly comfortable with.
It was absolute insanity. There was no reason on earth why this young man should be able to upend everything within five minutes just by existing in my presence.
But here we were. My cock aching, my heart beating a mile a minute and my mind racing with all the possibilities. Possibilities that I could not indulge for even a moment.
I lived on the road for a reason.
I wasn’t built for people. Not for anything soft. Not for anything that lingered.
Too rough. Too sharp-edged. Too damn mean.
Someone like Alfie—
I shut that down immediately.
Even the thought of breaking Alfie had me suppressing the urge to growl. A boy like him should never be broken. No. They should most definitely be protected, cherished and adored.
And none of the thoughts I was currently having about him were protective, adoring or sweet.
They were filthy, and they were raw, and if he didn't stop grinning up at me with those expressive eyes, I would show him exactly how unfit I was for polite company.
One good fuck and that smart mouth would—no, no!
I would not do it. I'd get this kid on the next bus to wherever he called home—after convincing him to stop this ridiculous hitchhiking business—and never think of him again.
"Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to actually focus on the road?
" Alfie asked, extending his legs to push his bare heels up onto the dashboard like a challenge.
They were slim, toned things, and my thoughts immediately jumped to images of those legs wrapped around me as I pummeled into him.
For fuck's sake Crowe, get your bloody head out the gutter!
"Feet off the dash," I bit, voice lower than intended. He did not move—of course he didn't, I should have expected that—but instead tipped his head back slightly, like he was settling in.
Testing me.
I forced my attention ahead. The sky ahead was half collapsed, smeared with the dying embers of sunset. I grabbed the wheel so hard the burn in my palm almost distracted from the other, lower ache. Almost.
Beside me, Alfie shifted, drawing his knees up, resting his chin there as he watched me. The shape of his mouth suggested he already knew every thought I'd had and was delighted by all of them.
"You know," he murmured, "you drive like you're being chased." He said it like it was the most flattering thing he could tell me, yet I still felt the need to slow down because maybe I was scaring him with my reckless driving?
Maybe I needed to scare him with my crazy driving so he'd beg me to let him out and he'd finally be safe from me and my lecherous thoughts. "You know," I parroted, "if you don't like it, you could always get out."
Alfie's grin widened into a huge smile and I felt my heart melt, my cock jump in my pants and my need to grip him and pull him in for a kiss nearly overwhelmed me.
"I don't think I will, big guy. I think I'll make myself comfortable in this seat, until you all but kick me out of it." He pauses for a beat. "I have a feeling traveling with you is going to be a blast."
Ugh. That sentence should not have made me happy, right?
Forcing my face not to react to him I turned all my attention back to the road and made sure to keep the scowl present.
I would not engage. I would not indulge in ridiculous whims and fantasies.
I would not fucking give in to the thought of fucking this boy until he begged me to let him come on my cock.
"So..." he continued, undeterred. "Obviously you're not going to volunteer any personal info, so how about we play a game of twenty questions... and by that, I mean I ask the questions and you reward me with answers?"
I ignored him.
As was becoming clear was his way, Alfie ignored me ignoring him.
"How old are you?"
I didn't answer him. I was being an asshole, I knew that, but it was my only line of defense, even if it seemed to only make him more eager.
"I'm betting you're in your late thirties. Hmmm. Thirty-seven?" His tone was filled with mirth, so he was obviously enjoying his game. In turn, my hand itched to pull him over my lap and spank his sexy ass until he promised to stop torturing me.
"What do you do for a job?" This time he didn't pause for my answer. "You're not a cop, because you didn't use actual cuffs for the bad guy back there. So... bounty hunter?"
I scowled back at him. Partly because he first guessed my age right, and secondly I didn't like that he could read me that easily. "Who says he was the bad guy? Maybe I was kidnapping him so I could sell his kidneys on the black market?"
Alfie roared with laughter and I nearly ran us off the road. I was so transfixed by the beauty on his face at his carefree expression of emotion. His surprisingly deep, rich laughter filled the cab and hit something low in my chest before I could stop it.
"Mr. Crowe... that guy had creeper written all over him. If you were kidnapping him to do evil things to him, I'm pretty sure he deserved it and the world is a better place without him."
"And you're not worried about being in a truck with a possible kidnapper and murderer?" I queried, annoyed with myself for giving in to this ridiculous line of conversation.
He didn't even hesitate. "Nope."
I frowned. "Why the fuck not?"
He turned his head, looking at me properly now, those beautiful eyes assessing me.
And then he smiled again.
"Because if you were a bad guy," he said, easy and certain, "You wouldn't be so worried about me not worrying about you being a bad guy."
His logic—although convoluted and messy—somehow made sense.
"You really should stop this hitchhiking nonsense," I couldn't help myself saying. "It's not safe. And you're going to get yourself killed. Maybe not by me, but who's to say the next person that stops for you isn't a serial killer looking to rape and kill you."
"Well..." he looked proud of himself. Why would he look so damned proud?
I watched from the corner of my eye as Alfie dug into his back pocket and took out his phone. He quickly unlocked the screen and scrolled through some screens before showing me a photo.
Of my truck's license plate.
"What the fuck?"
He grinned. "I took a photo when you pulled over and sent it to Goldie.
She's insisted on it since she first picked me up.
I have to send her an update each time along with the location I was picked up, and every time we pull over and so forth.
If I don't check in by dinner time she'll have the cops on the phone. "
I exhaled slowly.
It wasn’t a bad system.
Not nearly enough. But it was something
"That's not going to help you if you're already dead in a ditch."
"Well... normally I tell whomever picks me up almost immediately that I have a friend that knows where I'm at and who I'm with.
Show them the proof and everything." He paused then glanced at me again.
"But I don't know, Mr. Crowe. I trusted you wouldn't try to kill me, so I didn't think I needed to. "
Something inside me warmed up and unfurled. Something I'd thought long dead.
And I couldn't have it.
"Kid," I said, voice rough and hard. "That's not how life works. There are more ways for you to get hurt than being killed."
"I know," he responded brightly. "But is life really worth living without a bit of risk?"