“Come. Allow me to call a car from the agency. Just to be safe. It would make me feel better.”
Ryaine swayed heavily against me, then finally growled, “Fine. Happy?”
“Exceedingly.” She had no idea.
“Mr. Black, are you leaving so soon?” The server from earlier appeared at my side, his hands curled around a thick bundle of papers.
Oh. Sigh.
“I’m afraid so. Put the wine on my tab. And if you clear a path for us, you can reach out to my agent at ARC—greedy fusspot by the name of John Williams, like the composer but without the talent—he’ll get that script to me.” I lifted my chin toward the papers in his grip, then turned my shoulder to him and reached for Ryaine’s hand to offer added support.
Immediately, our server rushed to part the sea of bodies.
She snuggled closer, her eyelids drooping tiredly. “Thank you, Cyrus. You’re nicer than I thought you would be.”
I gave her a squeeze and whispered so that only she could hear, “You’re welcome, ma petit taureau.”
I didn’t personally know or recognize the driver the agency had sent over to collect Ryaine. He looked new. Thus, I insisted on accompanying her home to ensure she remain unmolested and unphotographed. Ryaine sat behind the empty passenger seat while I straddled the middle with my arm around her shoulders. Encouraging her head to rest against my chest rather than press her forehead against the window, her hand braced over my heart.
However, when she fell asleep in short order and her body grew lax, the hand over my heart slid down the front of my torso and landed heavily in my lap. I tensed, glancing up at the driver and finding his eyes on me.
Carefully plucking the appendage by the wrist and moving it to her lap, I gave the driver a tight smile. He returned it, his gaze flicking back to the road. In reaction to the quickly approaching yellow light he almost hadn’t noticed, the man slammed on the brakes, necessitating that I hold Ryaine’s head to keep it from whipping forward.
“Sorry,” the driver said. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries,” I said, pushing soft strands of hair away from Ryaine’s lips, the locks having fallen in her face due to our driver’s inattentiveness.
When I glanced up, I found him watching us again in the rearview mirror, the car unmoving, the light now green.
“You’re Cyrus Malcom, aren’t you?” His voice held a hint of awe.
“I am.” I pointed toward the windshield.
He didn’t take the hint. “Who is that? She looks familiar.”
“This is my cousin, visiting me from Texas,” I lied smoothly since I did not know this person and couldn’t be sure he’d keep Ryaine’s inebriation to himself. “And the light is green.”
He flinched, shifting his focus back to the road. “Oh. Sorry.”
“Think nothing of it.” Irritated with him, I cupped her cheek to keep her head in place as the driver followed the curve leading onto I-5, his speed well over the limit.
But just as he merged with traffic, Ryaine stretched her arm and—with absolutely no warning—fully palmed me over my pants, giving my cock a firm, single rub. I sucked in a breath, drawing the driver’s attention.
“Everything okay?”
I nodded, praying he couldn’t see the location of her hand. “Fine and dandy.”
He gave me a narrowed, confused-looking squint and then returned his attention to the road. As soon as he did, I abandoned her cheek in favor of saving the dignity of her fingers. Unfortunately, her head now unsupported, fell forward while I inhaled a steadying breath, commanding my blood flow to alter course. Alas, to no avail. The beast had awoken by the errant stroke of its head and now I’d be left to deal with its demands, just as soon as I made it home.
Ryaine made a soft sort of snort as I threaded our fingers together and once more removed her hand from my groin. Then her head lifted sharply, her eyes flying open, and—I don’t know why, so don’t ask—I froze.
She blinked several times, her intelligent eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?” she mumbled, her gaze scrutinizing.
“I—”
“I’ve never dreamt of you,” she said, tugging against my hold. I immediately released her hand. She brought it to my face and her thumb stroked over my bottom lip. “You’re so handsome.”
I smiled. Of course I smiled. An eccentric, gorgeous woman calls you handsome, you smile. That’s what you do.
But then I remembered we were not alone, and I glanced at the rearview mirror again. Unsurprisingly, the world’s nosiest driver watched us instead of LA freeway traffic.
Clearing my throat, I arranged my features into something I hoped looked familial and said, “Thank you.”
A puff of air left her lips. “Oh. This is nice.” Her words were dreamy and her hand smoothed down my shirtfront. “Kiss me.”
I grimaced, refusing to look at the man in the mirror again. He was watching, and listening, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. “Uh, I’m afraid that’s impossible, my dearest.”
“Anything is possible.” She pressed herself more insistently forward. “This is my dream.”
“Oh, no. I assure you, this is very much r—real!” The end of my sentence burst forth a full octave higher than my usual voice as that lovely hand of hers had returned to its favorite place.
I grabbed it and whispered directly in her ear, “None of that, naughty girl. I like my women sober and capable of consent. Behave.”
As I leaned away, I saw she was smiling. It looked a little sad. “I’d never do anything like this outside of a dream. I’m boring.”
“You are the opposite of boring.” I kept my voice just above a whisper. “I can’t wait to know you.” My heart quickened unaccountably at the thought. I didn’t understand it, but I didn’t fight it either.
Ryaine bit her luscious lower lip, pulling me from my musings, and I watched helplessly as she pulled it through her teeth before saying in a seductress’s voice, “You are so sexy.”
“Why, thank you. You’re exceptionally—ah-ah-ah!”
Her chin jutted forward, chasing my mouth, and her wayward hand tugged against my hold. Before I could firm my grip, she did some quick magic and had captured both of my hands in one of hers. This time my breath was sharp as she gave my cock a wonderfully demanding stroke over my pants, sending an equally sharp spear of white, hot pleasure to the base of my spine. A garbled mess of jumbled protestations mixed with an appreciative, instinctive growl rushed from my lungs and throat. Her movements stilled. In the very next second, her touch felt more exploring than sexy.
“You’re huge, Cyrus. Fuck,” she said on a breath that morphed into a moan. “I want it.”
Involuntarily, my eyes cut once more to the mirror and I almost laughed at the horrified stare that met mine. “I was joking earlier,” I said to him, smiling through a grimace. “This isn’t my cousin.”
“Sure.” He clearly didn’t believe me. But this man’s disgust was the least of my concerns. I could no longer salvage the situation or save face while drunk Ryaine seemed intent on unfastening my pants.