Read Online Girl Next Door - The Complete Series by C.C. Wood - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: C.C. Wood
Tags: Contemporary
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when I replied, “Five vodka cranberries and two shooters called something nipples, or screaming orgasms. I can’t remember the name, I just remember it had something to do with sex, or boobs, or something.”
I finally got my belt buckled as Aidan opened the driver side door to his Dodge pickup. He was chuckling and still wearing a shit-eating grin. I looked around and suddenly noticed how cluttered the cab was. Fast food wrappers, empty soda bottles, papers, pens, and assorted odds and ends were everywhere .
“When’s the last time you cleaned out your truck, 1999 or something?” I shoved a pile of trash under my seat with my feet. “I hope you didn’t pick up girls in this thing. I may find one of them lost in the garbage piles behind the seat.”
What can I say, alcohol encourages freedom of speech. Thankfully, Aidan found inebriated bluntness amusing rather than rude.
He chuckled and answered, “This is my company truck. I take it to work sites and the office. My brother, Patrick, also drives it a lot. Unfortunately, he’s a slob.”
I looked around me again. “No kidding,” I said.
I was pretty quiet the rest of the way home, enjoying my buzz and the company. Aidan pulled into his garage and shut off the truck.
The seatbelt was a lot less hassle going off than when I put it on. Aidan helped me out of the truck. I noticed a gorgeous deep blue Chevy Malibu. I loved American muscle, but I wasn’t so obsessed that I could tell the exact year model, but I was pretty sure it was late 1960’s.
“Nice wheels,” I said.
Aidan, again, looked surprised. “You know cars?”
I lifted my hand and waggled it back and forth in a so-so motion.
“I can tell make and model and general year range, but I wouldn’t trust me under the hood.” I swayed and ran the tips of my fingers across the front fender.
“This Malibu is sweet. It’s a late 1960’s model, right?” I asked.
Aidan was watching me intently, his eyes melting from hazel to gold. Oh, man, he was hot, and he was getting even hotter. Apparently, he liked that I was interested in cars, a lot .
Suddenly, he was in my space, gripping my hips and backing me toward the car.
“It’s a 1968 Chevy Malibu. Patrick and I worked on it together.”
My ass bumped the front end, then he lifted me and planted me on the hood. My denim mini skirt rode up my hips and Aidan stepped between my legs. I was torn between excitement and concern about scratching the paint. When Aidan’s hands gripped my ass and pulled me to his front, I forgot about the car. My head tilted back as he leaned forward and our faces were almost touching. I blinked slowly. I lifted my hand and traced Aidan’s cheekbone with a fingertip. The bones in his face were sharply defined and, honestly, his bone structure was gorgeous.
“You’re gorgeous,” I said. Again, the alcohol had destroyed the filter between my brain and my mouth, so I was just blurting out whatever I thought, willy nilly.
Aidan’s eyes brightened and his mouth was on mine. I felt as though he was going to devour me, his kiss was so intense. It was as though he wanted to eat me alive. I returned the feeling. The kiss went from hot to completely out of control.
My hands were up his t-shirt and gliding over the smooth skin of his back. Aidan pulled away and yanked the shirt off. I nuzzled his neck, my lips and tongue tasting his skin. Suddenly, Aidan tugged me to my feet and hauled me into the house.
“Why are we stopping?” I muttered in a daze.
He pulled me through the kitchen to the living room, stopping in front of the couch.
“We’re not. The car’s too short to fuck you on the hood. Plus, I don’t want to scratch the paint.”
If I hadn’t been in a fog of lust, I would found his and my similar thoughts amusing. My mind stopped working completely when Aidan grabbed the hem of my shirt, whipped it over my head, and then made short work of removing my miniskirt. I was left standing in a matching deep
I finally got my belt buckled as Aidan opened the driver side door to his Dodge pickup. He was chuckling and still wearing a shit-eating grin. I looked around and suddenly noticed how cluttered the cab was. Fast food wrappers, empty soda bottles, papers, pens, and assorted odds and ends were everywhere .
“When’s the last time you cleaned out your truck, 1999 or something?” I shoved a pile of trash under my seat with my feet. “I hope you didn’t pick up girls in this thing. I may find one of them lost in the garbage piles behind the seat.”
What can I say, alcohol encourages freedom of speech. Thankfully, Aidan found inebriated bluntness amusing rather than rude.
He chuckled and answered, “This is my company truck. I take it to work sites and the office. My brother, Patrick, also drives it a lot. Unfortunately, he’s a slob.”
I looked around me again. “No kidding,” I said.
I was pretty quiet the rest of the way home, enjoying my buzz and the company. Aidan pulled into his garage and shut off the truck.
The seatbelt was a lot less hassle going off than when I put it on. Aidan helped me out of the truck. I noticed a gorgeous deep blue Chevy Malibu. I loved American muscle, but I wasn’t so obsessed that I could tell the exact year model, but I was pretty sure it was late 1960’s.
“Nice wheels,” I said.
Aidan, again, looked surprised. “You know cars?”
I lifted my hand and waggled it back and forth in a so-so motion.
“I can tell make and model and general year range, but I wouldn’t trust me under the hood.” I swayed and ran the tips of my fingers across the front fender.
“This Malibu is sweet. It’s a late 1960’s model, right?” I asked.
Aidan was watching me intently, his eyes melting from hazel to gold. Oh, man, he was hot, and he was getting even hotter. Apparently, he liked that I was interested in cars, a lot .
Suddenly, he was in my space, gripping my hips and backing me toward the car.
“It’s a 1968 Chevy Malibu. Patrick and I worked on it together.”
My ass bumped the front end, then he lifted me and planted me on the hood. My denim mini skirt rode up my hips and Aidan stepped between my legs. I was torn between excitement and concern about scratching the paint. When Aidan’s hands gripped my ass and pulled me to his front, I forgot about the car. My head tilted back as he leaned forward and our faces were almost touching. I blinked slowly. I lifted my hand and traced Aidan’s cheekbone with a fingertip. The bones in his face were sharply defined and, honestly, his bone structure was gorgeous.
“You’re gorgeous,” I said. Again, the alcohol had destroyed the filter between my brain and my mouth, so I was just blurting out whatever I thought, willy nilly.
Aidan’s eyes brightened and his mouth was on mine. I felt as though he was going to devour me, his kiss was so intense. It was as though he wanted to eat me alive. I returned the feeling. The kiss went from hot to completely out of control.
My hands were up his t-shirt and gliding over the smooth skin of his back. Aidan pulled away and yanked the shirt off. I nuzzled his neck, my lips and tongue tasting his skin. Suddenly, Aidan tugged me to my feet and hauled me into the house.
“Why are we stopping?” I muttered in a daze.
He pulled me through the kitchen to the living room, stopping in front of the couch.
“We’re not. The car’s too short to fuck you on the hood. Plus, I don’t want to scratch the paint.”
If I hadn’t been in a fog of lust, I would found his and my similar thoughts amusing. My mind stopped working completely when Aidan grabbed the hem of my shirt, whipped it over my head, and then made short work of removing my miniskirt. I was left standing in a matching deep
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