Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
I can’t believe this is happening .
Lyla held on to Rock for dear life. She was both scared and invigorated. She’d thought about riding into the sunset with him a million times, but she’d never seriously expected it to happen.
Granted, it certainly wasn’t sunset. It was nearly midnight. She’d certainly never envisioned herself riding behind him in a prom dress and heels. And, perhaps most important, she’d had no idea what the vibration of his bike would do to her pussy.
She realized she had no clue where he lived, and she didn’t care. She never wanted this ride to end. She inhaled his scent, let the wind hit her in the face, and grinned from ear to ear.
Fifteen minutes ago, she’d been a hot mess of nerves. Rock had blown everything that had happened tonight right out of the stratosphere. Fuck her prom date and his cronies. The guy was a dick. He didn’t deserve to occupy another moment of her headspace.
When Rock pulled into an apartment complex, Lyla found herself disappointed. She’d rather stay on this bike all night. Instead, she had to face the next phase in this crazy idea.
Rock parked, turned off the bike, and twisted to lift her up over the seat and set her on the ground. He didn’t release her hips too quickly either. “You steady, Little Lyla?”
She took a second and nodded. It seemed like her legs would hold her up, even though they were noodles, and she was wearing heels. She quickly shimmied and tugged the dress until it fell back into place around her legs. While he dismounted, she tucked the bear under her arm, unfastened the helmet, then handed it to him when he turned around.
“My hair must look like I went through a hurricane.” She reached up with her free hand to touch the curls that had tumbled from the top all evening. She held one of the stuffed bear’s legs in her other hand.
Rock stowed both helmets and faced her. “Your hair is gorgeous, Baby girl. Don’t fret.” He took her hand and led her toward the building.
“These apartments look brand new,” she commented.
“Yeah. They’re nice. I’m glad I managed to get a unit.”
“How long have you lived here?” It seemed awkward that she’d never asked where he lived. She was embarrassed now to realize she didn’t know much about his life.
It was as if he were simply her brother’s hot friend who materialized out of nowhere every once in a while and made her life a little sunnier. He did that without knowing it. He did it by looking at her with his smoldering gaze and speaking to her in his sultry voice. She was certain he had no idea.
When they reached the stairs, Rock turned toward her, bent at the knees, and swooped her off the ground to cradle her in his arms.
“ Rock ,” she squealed. “What are you doing?”
“Baby girl, you are so wobbly on those sexy heels, I’m afraid you might fall on the stairs. And then I’d have to take you to the hospital and face your parents to explain how you broke your leg in the middle of the night at my apartment. I’m not up for that tonight.” His voice was teasing.
Fine. If he was going to carry her, she was going to milk this strange night for every drop. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her head on his shoulder.
Once again, she reminded herself he surely didn’t see her as more than his friend’s kid sister, but he didn’t know what was happening in her head. Her fantasies were none of his business.
When they reached the door to his apartment, he jostled her easily to one side a bit and pulled the keys out of his pocket. He didn’t set her down as he opened the door, nor did he set her down after he entered the apartment.
Rock Monroe carried her straight through the masculine living room and into the kitchen. Finally, he sat her on the counter next to the fridge.
She swayed slightly, feeling lightheaded from the shock of everything that was happening.
He planted his hands on the counter on both sides of her, crowding her and trapping her. “What would you like to drink, Baby girl?”
She licked her lips. What was the right answer? What did this tattooed sexy man even have to drink in his apartment? “Uh, beer?”
He laughed before grabbing her waist and shaking his head. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell, Little girl. Have you ever even tried beer?”
She shook her head as her face heated.
“Have you ever tried any alcohol?”
She looked down. She was a goody two-shoes, and everyone knew it, including Rock. She didn’t break rules or curfew. She was a perfect student. Even in her art, she never colored outside the lines.
He lifted her chin with a finger. “I’m sorry I laughed. You probably didn’t need that. I’m a complex guy. My fridge has more than beer in it, Baby girl. How about lemon-lime soda or apple juice?”
Shocked by his choices, she asked, “Do you not drink caffeine?”
“Sure I do. I have several types of colas too, but Little girls don’t need caffeine this late at night.”
Her cheeks heated again. That was three times he’d called her a Little girl. He’d started calling her Little Lyla the day she’d met him. The nickname had never bothered her. It was their thing. He never said it in front of other people. It made her feel special, like she meant something to him. It made her feel cherished.
But Little girl?
“I’m not a baby, you know.” She straightened her spine and stared at him. “In fact, I’m not a child at all. I’m eighteen now.”
“Baby girl, I’ve never been more aware of anything in my life as I am about your age and your adult status. That’s not going to stop me from calling you Little girl. It’s in my blood. I’m a nurturing guy by nature. My instinct is to take care of you and make sure you’re safe.”
“Oh.” Her head was spinning. Half of his words didn’t make much sense to her, and the other half made her panties wet. What did he mean by being overly aware of her age?
“How about if I choose for you?” he suggested. Keeping one hand extended across her body and planted on the counter as if to keep her from falling, he used the other to pull the fridge open.
She didn’t look inside. She didn’t want to take her gaze off him. How long would he let her stay here? How many hours was this most perfect night of her life going to last?
When she saw the drink he’d pulled out, she giggled. “Why do you have juice boxes in your fridge?”
He shrugged as he put the straw in the hole. “Never hurts to be prepared. Never know when the prettiest Little girl in the world might come by and need a drink.”
She took the juice box from him and sipped down most of it in one long drink. “I guess I was thirsty.”
“There’s plenty more. Help yourself if you want another or ask me to get it for you.”
“’K.”
He pushed back a few inches and surprised her again when he lifted one of her feet and removed the shoe. He did the same to the other side before setting the stilettos on the floor next to the cabinets. “I bet your toes were screaming.”
“Yeah. They kind of were.”
“How much dancing did you do?”
She shrugged and looked away. “Not much,” she muttered. “I don’t really want to talk about the dance, Rock. Can’t we just pretend it didn’t happen and move on?”
“Nope. I want to hear the details. I want to know what happened to make you arrive home alone with tears in your eyes. Do I need to hunt down the boy you went to prom with and teach him some manners?”
She gasped, eyes going wide.
Rock snickered. “Baby girl, unless that boy did something worthy of a good hard lesson, I’m kidding.”
“Oh.” Shrugging as if she hadn’t totally taken him seriously, she continued, “I mean it’s not a bad idea.”
Rock drew in a breath. “Start from the beginning.” He scooped her off the counter, handed her the bear she’d placed next to the sink, and made sure she had a grip on her juice box. “Let’s go sit on the couch.”
As he deposited her on the sectional, she squirmed to adjust her dress. It was hard to sit comfortably in the damn thing. It was made for standing. Not even walking. The skirt had kept her from taking more than baby steps.
Rock leaned over her, setting both hands on the back of the sofa, pinning her in the way he’d done on the kitchen counter. “You’re uncomfortable. That dress is sexy as fuck but you’ve had enough of it, haven’t you?”
Her breath hitched. Had he just said she was sexy?
“You heard me, Little Lyla. And don’t act so surprised. You spent all day getting ready for the prom. At least four people worked on you, doing your hair and makeup and nails. Am I wrong?”
She shook her head.
“So yeah, sexy as fuck. Don’t ever doubt it. But I bet you’d like to get out of that dress. How about if I lend you one of my T-shirts? It would hang low enough to keep you fully covered.”
“What if I don’t want to be fully covered?” she blurted before she could filter her thoughts. She slapped a hand over her mouth, mortified.
Rock groaned. “Baby girl… Don’t tempt me. You’ve been legal for like a minute. I’m not going to take advantage of you. I just want to make you comfortable.”
She glanced at his black-T-shirt-covered chest as she lowered her hand, feeling feisty and flirtatious. So out of her element. “Can I have the one you’re wearing?”
The groan that came from between his lips made her squeeze her legs together. She was going to self-combust. In addition, she was pretty sure he knew it.
Lyla had secrets. Sure, she presented herself as a total prude with her conservative clothes, high work ethic, and rule-following, but when she was alone in her bedroom at night, she let herself go into her fantasy mode.
Sometimes she read smutty books. Other times she simply closed her eyes and visualized every imaginable scenario with Rock. She liked to pretend he was her man. Meanwhile, she’d grown exceptionally capable of getting herself off with her fingers.
Rock stepped back, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her feet. “Turn around.”
She spun away from him and held her breath while he lowered the zipper all the way down her back before turning her to face him once again. Releasing her, he hauled his T-shirt over his head and handed it to her. “Change, Baby girl.”
She was reeling as he spun around.
Oh. He means here. Now. Take off the dress and put his shirt on .
Jesus, this was hot. Why was this so hot? Probably because everything Rock did was hot all the time.
Lyla dropped the dress, stepped out of the pile of silk, and hauled the T-shirt over her head. She even lifted the front of it to her nose to savor his scent.
“You good?”
“Yes.” She sat, tucked her legs up under her, settled the bear in her lap, and held on to him, hoping he would provide moral support and courage. She didn’t care if Rock judged her for keeping the bear close. Besides, he’d given it to her. What did he expect her to do?
The teddy bear felt like a lifeline, grounding her in the present.