Breathing heavy, I close my eyes, wondering how in the world it’s possible that every kiss we share feels just as overwhelming as the first time he kissed me all those years ago.
“Do you want to change, or are you good wearing that?”
“I think I’ll change,” I say, because even if he makes me feel secure, there is no way I’m going to walk into a club full of women who are probably all gorgeous, wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts, a tank top, and sandals with my hair a mess and my makeup most likely half-melted off my face. And I’m definitely not going to do that on the arm of a man who—even after traveling—looks like he could be on the cover of one of those books May reads all the time.
“All right, while you change, I’ll be in my office.” He kisses my forehead, squeezes my hip, and touches his mouth to mine before heading out of the room.
After watching him disappear out of sight, I let out a long breath, then go back to my suitcase and pull out my black lace romper with scalloped and frayed-looking edges and thin, barely there straps and the heels I packed to wear with it. Resting my shoes on the floor and my outfit on the end of the bed, I grab my makeup case and head into the bathroom to get ready.
Chapter 12
April
SPEEDING DOWN THE highway with Maxim, who’s driving a car that is even fancier than the one still parked in my garage in Tennessee, I glare at the windshield with my arms crossed over my chest. The weight of his palm on my bare upper thigh a reminder of the argument we had about my outfit before we left his house.
Three times I’ve tried to pull his hand away, and three times he’s not let me, his statement from the first time I tried on replay in my mind. “You might be pissed, but you’re still mine.” The possessive statement should not have the ability to piss me off and turn me on, but it did both.
I’ve never had a man lay claim to me before. I’ve never had a man make it clear that they don’t want to share me, even with some faceless person who might see me and want me. It’s a heady feeling and one under different circumstances I might appreciate.
That said, no man but my father has told me to put on more clothes since I was a teenager. I didn’t appreciate it when my dad did it, and I sure as hell didn’t like it much when Maxim did either.
When I walked into his office to tell him that I was ready to go, the heat in his gaze as his eyes swept over my body made my skin prickle and my thighs tighten. I’ve had men tell me I’m beautiful, give me looks that state clearly they are interested, but I’ve never had a man look at me like they want to possess me. I don’t know what I expected him to say when he opened his mouth, but “Go change” definitely wasn’t it.
My “Pardon?” wasn’t warning enough for him, because he repeated his earlier statement, only adding, “Go change. You’re not wearing that.”
My first thought was to pick up something to throw at his head. My next was to tell him that I just wouldn’t go with him to his club if he didn’t like the way I was dressed, but I figured that would be letting him win, so instead, I refused to change and headed to his garage without another word.
Now, with his hand on my thigh and his grip firm, I realize that might not have been the smartest thing I could have done. The excitement I felt earlier about seeing where he works is gone, replaced with aggravation. For the next few hours, he and I are going to be alone, and since we’re not exactly on speaking terms—me being the one not speaking to him—that probably won’t be very fun for me.
As we get closer to downtown, the lights get brighter, the signs get bigger, and before long, he’s exiting the highway and turning onto one of the roads, his car fitting in perfectly amongst all the others that are just as exotic. When he turns down a back road, I sit up a little straighter, a neon sign of a woman standing under dripping blue lights is hard not to notice. Neither is the word WET in large letters that form at her feet every few seconds. A million and one questions form in my mind, and it sucks that I can’t ask even one of them right now, not without breaking first. He turns into a dark alley on the side of the building and pulls into the almost empty lot, behind the only other car, a bright-yellow Lamborghini.
“Malo’s here,” he says, filling the silence for the first time, and I look over at him as he drives into a parking spot.
“Your brother?” The question is out before I can stop it, and he grins—grins at me, because he knows I was working hard at giving him the silent treatment. “Don’t piss me off.”
“I can’t piss you off when you’re already pissed at me, baby.” His hand on my thigh slides farther between my legs, his fingers squeezing while his gaze wanders over my face to my chest, then down to where his hand is. I tighten my legs together to trap his hand and cover it with mine as heat pools between my thighs. My heart kicks into overdrive, and my breath catches when I feel his pinky run along the space between my skin and the delicate edge of my lace panties.
“So soft.” He licks his bottom lip, then lifts his head, our eyes locking. “So pretty.” His pinky does another swipe, causing my hips to jerk in surprise as it hooks under the lace. “So oblivious to the effect you have on men.” Another swipe. “But I know. I know what they’re thinking. I know every dirty thought they have when they look at you.”
“I can’t control what people think,” I snap, then gasp when he swipes his pinky once more, this time brushing the lips of my sex.
“You’re right; you can’t, but whatever this shit is that now lives inside me is a monster you created. A monster you fed with your beauty, your attitude, your smiles, and the softness you work so hard to hide. You gave all that to me, so now it’s mine, and I don’t like sharing it with anyone.”
Oh my God, why do I like that so much?
“So be pissed I didn’t want anyone to see you looking so fucking gorgeous that you took my breath away the moment you entered my office, or call me possessive or jealous for wanting this just for me. Really, I don’t give a fuck what words you use,” he growls, making me shiver. “The only thing I know is you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted just for me, so sharing you goes against every single instinct I have.”
“You could have just said all that to begin with instead of ordering me to go change like I’m a child.” His brows dart together, and I clear my throat. “I don’t really like being told what to do.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that.” His gaze searches mine, then drops to my mouth. My belly dips, and I lean forward, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, then jump when there are three loud bangs. His body covers mine as I jerk back, then my eyes fly to the window behind him and blink at a very attractive guy with long dark hair, standing outside the driver’s door.
“Are you two going to make out or come inside?” the guy asks, grinning at me through the window.
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Maxim tells me, removing his hand from between my legs, and I instantly miss his touch and also realize exactly how turned on he got me with just a few swipes of one finger.
“I heard that, and you know Mom would be pissed if you killed me,” who I’m guessing is Malo says, and I smile as Maxim shuts down the engine that was still running.