The Highway’s Forbidden Toll - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
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Small talk revealed his name was Connor Roland—a rugged trucker who ran medical supplies up and down the Extraterrestrial Highway regularly.
I was scrambling for another conversation topic when the truck lurched to a violent stop, slamming me forward.
"Goddammit," Connor growled, wrenching the wheel. My skull cracked against the window with a sickening thud.
Then—surprise—his calloused hand shot out to cradle my forehead. "You good, sweetheart?"
But his gaze wasn’t on my face. My 32Ds were practically auditioning for their own show after that sudden brake.
And yeah, I definitely noticed the straining denim tent pole in his lap.
My thighs pressed together on instinct. Christ, something that thick pounding into me—
Once he confirmed I wasn’t concussed, Connor grabbed his phone and sent a voice memo about taking an extra run after this afternoon’s delivery.
"You actually scooped up some college chick? Heard most of ‘em are still tight. One quick bounce and—fuck, must be heaven." The guy on the other end practically drooled through the speaker.
Connor’s "That right?" was casual, but his flickering stare burned holes in my sweater.
I death-gripped the seatbelt. Was he seriously considering field-testing that theory?
My thumb hovered over my phone—text Ethan or not?—when his frantic voice exploded from the walkie-talkie:
"Scarlett! We blew a tire. Simon says there’s a spare on the truck. Tell your driver to U-turn now."
Chaos erupted before I could reply.
"Three grand."
"Are you insane? Roadside’s two hundred max!"
"Scarlett, you—" Static murdered the rest.
Adrenaline spiked, but I choked it down.
Turning to Connor, I kept my voice steady. "Flat tire. We need to go back. And the fee... your call."
Reasonable, right?
Wrong.
Connor’s chuckle was black ice. His mouth twisted into something predatory.
Confusion spiked as he veered onto a dirt road barely wider than the truck.
"Uh. Wrong turn?" My spine went rigid.
I was scrambling for another conversation topic when the truck lurched to a violent stop, slamming me forward.
"Goddammit," Connor growled, wrenching the wheel. My skull cracked against the window with a sickening thud.
Then—surprise—his calloused hand shot out to cradle my forehead. "You good, sweetheart?"
But his gaze wasn’t on my face. My 32Ds were practically auditioning for their own show after that sudden brake.
And yeah, I definitely noticed the straining denim tent pole in his lap.
My thighs pressed together on instinct. Christ, something that thick pounding into me—
Once he confirmed I wasn’t concussed, Connor grabbed his phone and sent a voice memo about taking an extra run after this afternoon’s delivery.
"You actually scooped up some college chick? Heard most of ‘em are still tight. One quick bounce and—fuck, must be heaven." The guy on the other end practically drooled through the speaker.
Connor’s "That right?" was casual, but his flickering stare burned holes in my sweater.
I death-gripped the seatbelt. Was he seriously considering field-testing that theory?
My thumb hovered over my phone—text Ethan or not?—when his frantic voice exploded from the walkie-talkie:
"Scarlett! We blew a tire. Simon says there’s a spare on the truck. Tell your driver to U-turn now."
Chaos erupted before I could reply.
"Three grand."
"Are you insane? Roadside’s two hundred max!"
"Scarlett, you—" Static murdered the rest.
Adrenaline spiked, but I choked it down.
Turning to Connor, I kept my voice steady. "Flat tire. We need to go back. And the fee... your call."
Reasonable, right?
Wrong.
Connor’s chuckle was black ice. His mouth twisted into something predatory.
Confusion spiked as he veered onto a dirt road barely wider than the truck.
"Uh. Wrong turn?" My spine went rigid.
End of The Highway’s Forbidden Toll Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to The Highway’s Forbidden Toll book page.