TOP OF THE ROCK

☆ | 6.0

☆

IT WAS JUST THE THREE OF THEM. Alone. An arctic silence stole the wisps of frosty breath from her lips, and beyond the tinted windows, snow fell softly.

Hesitantly, gnawing on her bottom lip, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she snuck a glance at him.

Vegas. What a fucking fake name.

A hazy red light bathed him in serenity and sin, caressing every trace of dark skin, cheekbones and knuckles stripped to the sensual shade. There was something solid about him, as still and silent as the icy weather outside, and as the faint luminescence drenched his body, the idea of what could thaw him stirred her thoughts to dangerous places.

A shiver wracked down her spine.

"Cold?"

Smoothly, licking her lips, twisting a strand of hair around her finger, she peered over at him.

Cadillac. What another fucking fake name.

The light flickered, casting him into a gorgeous green glow, and it swept across his curious expression, dancing like shards of sea glass in his dark eyes. There was something devilishly handsome about him, rugged and roguish, calloused hands and a five o'clock shadow, dressed into a black Carhartt and a red beanie.

Fuck, she would admit it in a court of law. She had a fucking weakness for men who worked with their hands.

So when they were caught, that would be how she pleaded guilty—an inability to resist men like them. How tragic.

A hum vibrated her thighs. Slowly, Vegas cruised through the intersection, taking them further into Astoria. "No." She quirked a brow. "I'm not cold."

"Hmmm." Cadillac hummed, those dark eyes falling to her bare legs. Bemusement tilted his lips into a slight grin. "Whatever you say."

Fuck. If they would do anything she said...

"Sorry." Vegas reached over her to flick at a few buttons. Lazily, she watched the ink ripple across his skin, wrapping around his forearm and disappearing under a rolled-up sweater sleeve. "Here."

A warm gust of air fanned across her cheeks, and a soft peel of laughter and bells chased the silent gasp of surprise.

Cadillac snickered, shook his head, cast him a look of exasperation. "Really?"

When Vegas shrugged carelessly, a giggle threatened to break free. The song split into faint, fluttering lyrics, and a strangely surreal sensation seized her. This was every girl's winter fantasy—caged between two... big men in the front seat of a pick-up truck, skidding along snowy roads, trapped together, and listening to... Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.

Her lips twitched in amusement.

"He's making a list, he's checking it twice," The Pointer Sisters cover filled the silence in the car. "He's gonna find out who's naughty or nice."

"We should make a list," she suggested softly, fingers tapping against her knee with the beat. That blanket of warmth coaxed a playful smile to her lips. They couldn't do anything useful tonight, but they were alone and warm. Together. "Of what we... need."

"Yeah, and check it twice," Vegas muttered, sparing her a dark look. A warning flashed in his eyes. "If we forget anything, we're fucked."

Fucked.

Yeah, she had a good idea of what Vegas needed.

"Mhmm. Let me just... check... for..." she trailed off, flirting with a professional tone. Vegas turned back to the road, but when they came to another red light, rolling to a slow stop, his gaze returned—twice as hot. "Oh, there it is. Vegas. Naughty."