Along with the white blouse, she’s wearing a fitted red skirt that hugs her hips and nude heels. Her thick, red hair is pinned up on her head in a messy bun, and her lips are the color of her skirt. Deep red. My brain automatically wonders what those red lips would look like wrapped around my cock.

She sets her purse and her travel coffee thermos on the seat next to her and when Marcus hits the gas, her thermos tips over and sloshes its contents onto my pant leg.

“Shit!” I exclaim, my blood reaching a temperature close to that of her liquid caffeine.

I upright the mug and place it next to mine in the cup holder in the middle console by our feet. Where coffee thermoses are intended to go.

“Oh God.” Chloe leans toward me, using a tissue from her purse to dab at the wet spot on my thigh. “I’m sorry.”

I grab her wrist, probably harder than I mean to, but her actions are not helping this situation.

“Please stop.”

“Sorry, again. I’m having an off morning. I didn’t sleep well.”

“The luxury Egyptian cotton sheets were too comfortable?” I ask, trying not to take offense to Chloe’s lack of rest.

“Oh, it wasn’t the sheets. Those are amazing. Very soft and pleasing to the touch. Just first night in a new place. You know when you wake up in a strange bed and forget how you got there. That kind of thing.”

I want to ask her how often she’s woken up in a strange bed but I choose a safer topic.

“How’s your head?” I ask.

“Good. It hurts less than yesterday. How does it look?”

I study her face. Those big blue eyes surrounded by long, dark lashes and her petite nose. If she has makeup on, it’s hard to tell with the light smattering of freckles still visible across her nose and cheeks. There’s one prominent freckle near her lips. It’s always pulled my attention there. Lush, pink lips that taunt me. Because they’re red today, I’m even more entranced.

Finally, I lift my gaze to her forehead. The ice took care of most of the swelling, but there is definitely a bruise. My chest tightens with regret. I hate that she got hurt.

“Better,” I reply.

“Good.” She gently touches the spot before reaching for her purse. “How’d you sleep?”