Not Just Friends (Hot in the City #3) - T. Gephart Page 0,100
dropping her feet to the ground to keep her still. “You’d let me drive, Elena?”
“Awww, you know her name.” I grinned, petting the steering wheel. “And yeah, as long as you promise not to leave my transmission on the LIE. What do you say? Feel like taking her out?”
No one had ever driven my car.
Not even Tibbs, and the bastard had begged me since I’d gotten her. And it wasn’t just the price tag, which would’ve been reason enough. It was just—well, she was like my woman. And no, I wasn’t a sick bastard who fantasized about fucking the tail pipe. It was just something I’d wanted for a really long time and didn’t want to share. Much like Presley. But given the choice between my car and my girlfriend, it wasn’t even a competition.
“Is this a trick question?” she asked, lifting herself out of the swing and walking toward the car. “Or do you have a concussion I don’t know about?”
To prove my point, I threw it into neutral, pulled up the emergency brake and opened the driver’s side door. “And if I had a concussion, are you not going to take advantage of it?” I leaned back against the door, folding my arms across my chest as I smirked.
She closed the gap between the car and swing, putting her hands either side of me as she leaned in. “Then you better let me in before you come to your senses.”
Our lips met, my body pushed against the car while we made out, in what was probably the hottest threesome I could ever think up. And that kiss, it wasn’t vulnerable. It was hot and needy for a different reason.
Pulling back before anything got too out of control, I moved to the side, taking her with me and opening the driver’s side door. She looked like a kid on Christmas, scrunching her fists in excitement as she looked inside.
“You know how to work a clutch, right?” I laughed nervously, showing her the pedals. It was a little late in the game to be asking, but I was serious about not wanting to lose my transmission.
Her eyes rolled, sliding into the driver’s seat and adjusting it. “Please, I learned to drive in my dad’s car. You know the man will probably be the last person on earth to give up a stick shift. Now stop stalling and get in or I’ll leave you here.”
She wasn’t kidding either, attempting to close the door while my body was still blocking it. It was the first glimpse of the old Presley I’d seen in days, the smile on her face radiating pure happiness.
Worried I might screw it up by mentioning it, I did what the lady told me to do and got into the passenger seat. It was a long ass walk back to Midtown and I didn’t want to have to call Tibbs and ask for a ride home. I’d never hear the end of it. One, because I let his sister drive my car instead of him, and two, because she stole said car.
I’d barely fastened my belt when she let off the brake, taking off like a bat out of hell. She quickly transitioned from first to second, taking the stick like a natural as she flirted with the speed limit.
“You know we’re still in the suburbs, Pres, and not a NASCAR circuit.” I glanced over, knowing it would piss her off.
“Shut up, Leighton.” She laughed, making her way through the gears. “Don’t be such a pussy.”
“Oh, I’m being a pussy?” I laughed, loving that smile and knowing I had something to do with putting it there. “Let’s see who’s a pussy once you get on the 495 and you can really open her up. And if you’re not red lining, you’re not doing it right.”
Taking my taunt in the spirit it was intended, she took the entrance ramp, her grin widening as she tightened her grip on the wheel. The speed limit was fifty-five on the LIE, which was what you travelled at if you wanted to get some other car’s grill right up your ass. Everyone else did seventy to seventy-five, which suited us just fine considering Elena could do a hundred and not even work up a sweat.
Once we were on the interstate, there was no stopping her. Presley using every single one of those 526 horses to get herself out in front of traffic and get Elena purring. It was making me hard, both of my