Shelli Stevens

Snippet Saturday (humorous)

Welcome to another Snippet Saturday! Today’s topic is ‘Humorous’ scenes. I’ll be sharing a scene from my book Trust and Dare. Now it’s not like outright LOL necessarily, but it’s on the lighter side. Check out my excerpt and then hop on by the other blogs!

One weekend. His rules. Inhibitions left at the door.

Angry that yet another military man has done her family wrong, Abby Cook plots sweet revenge. But when her plan goes awry, she discovers that she’s targeted the wrong military man.

Mason Tyler is not used to being disobeyed. Yet the curvy blonde has rejected his advances at every turn. When he catches her in the middle of a very destructive—not to mention illegal—prank, he offers her a deal. A deal that will keep her out of jail. And let him exact a little revenge of his own.

One weekend in his bed…no inhibitions, no refusals. But when the weekend is up, will Mason be ready to let Abby go?

Available at Samhain.

EXCERPT

“Look,” she squirmed underneath him, avoiding his gaze. “Can you get off me, please?”

“Now why would I do that?” He smiled, starting to enjoy their positions. “I’ve been waiting a long time to get you on your back, baby.”

Her mouth opened on a gasp. “Listen, buddy—”

“I’m not your buddy,” he murmured. “You wouldn’t even give me your name, remember? And right about now, you’re lucky if I don’t call the police on your ass.”

That last part had been a bluff, but it was a good way to keep her with him for a few minutes longer.

“Oh! There’s no need for that. Look, I’m not sure what you think you saw.” She ran her tongue over her lips and the small gesture had him biting back a groan and his jeans fitting tighter. “But, umm, it’s not what it looked like. So, would you mind letting me up?”

He shifted, trying to ease the discomfort of his throbbing dick pressed tight inside his jeans. “And what did it look like?”

She struggled to free herself again, gave up, and then sighed. “I don’t know, what do you think it looked like?”

He frowned. Good question. What had he seen? Whatever it was, it hadn’t looked legal. “It looked like you were dumping something from a bottle onto a towel and rubbing it on my truck.”

“Oh. Well, then it is what it looked like. But it was no less than he—” Her eyes opened even wider. “Wait, did you just say your truck?”

“Yeah, I did.” He cocked his head, his gut clenching. “What was on the towel?”

Her head shook back and forth. “No. No. It can’t be your truck. Kelly said there’s only one black Ford truck at this complex.”

“My truck’s dark blue.” So a case of mistaken truck identity. But what had she been doing to it?

“Dark blue…? Oh, no. It’s night out and I must have mistaken…” She went limp underneath him, her head falling back onto the ground. “So that was your truck? Oh, God.”

“What was on the towel, baby?” The tingling on the back of his neck warned him he wouldn’t like the answer.

“Brake fluid.” Her voice was a little squeak, and about half the volume it had been a minute ago.

His vision went red, his desire for her diminished slightly to make room for the sudden anger that ripped through him. Brake fluid? Did she realize what that did to the car? Stripped the paint and corroded the metal frame? Of course she realizes. That’s why she did it, dumb shit.

He kept his voice deliberately calm as he asked, “You put brake fluid on my truck?”

She nodded and bit her lip. “I didn’t think it was your truck when I was doing it.”

“Yeah, I got that part. What did you do? Take the towel and wipe it over the door?” The door could be replaced. She’d pay for it, and God knows how long it’d take, but a door was fixable.

“Umm, not exactly.” She took a deep breath and mumbled something about crabs.

“What?”

“I said that I wrote I have crabs on the side of your truck!” She lowered her gaze. “You caught me before I could finish the other side.”

His mouth opened but no words came out. There was a rushing in his ears. The truck was two months old. And she’d just destroyed it. Destroyed it by writing the words I have crabs on the side.

“I promise I can have it fixed, um…what’s your name?”

“Now you want to know my name? Right after you defiled my damn truck?”

She squirmed again, pulling her leg up and twisting their bodies until he slid down her body a little. Was she trying to flee again? Get away without being held accountable for her actions? No way was she leaving without him getting her number. But this time he wasn’t so much interested in a date, as making sure she fixed his truck.

He adjusted his body so he could slide a knee between her legs, pushing her thighs apart as he transferred both her wrists to one hand. Her eyes widened.

“There’s no reason we can’t handle this like friends, right?”

“Friends? How can we be friends? You’ve never even given me your name and now you’ve trashed my truck.” He laughed, but not because he was amused. “Right now I can’t decide whether to convince you to come home with me, or have you arrested.”