CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX #2
The more he speaks, the more I could listen to his sultry voice all day. The way his lips shape every word. The way his hand rests on the gearshift. Makes me imagine how they’d feel wrapped around my thighs, spreading me open, teasing until I…
He glances over at me with those lethal green eyes. “Lila?” he says in a low, smoky whisper.
“Mmmhmm?”
“Are you listening to me?”
Shit. I’m staring, and he knows.
“Oh, yes. I’m listening! Taking mental notes.”
A deep, dark chuckle slips from his mouth, and a slow smile curves at the corner of his lips as his eyes stay on the road. “Oh, really? Then tell me one thing I just said.”
He turns slightly, finally looking at me. And I see it. His eyes drop to my lips, just for a second. But I feel it everywhere.
Did he just look at me the way I look at him? No way. I must have something on my lip .
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but blush. “That’s what I thought,” he says, eyes flicking to my lips again before turning back to the road.
Wait a damn minute. He’s doing it on purpose. Asshole.
“We’ve got about an hour’s drive,” he says, glancing at the navigation screen. “We’ll stop at a rest area so you can change. You need to look the part. Before my assistant left, she picked up your sizes, makeup, and hair products.”
She sounds like his little housewife. Bitch.
He checks the clock. “Shit. We’re supposed to be there at ten, and we’ve got an hour. We’re going to be late.”
I stop him because he wants to play games, and I can do it too. “I’m not bashful. I’ll get ready in here. Are your windows tinted?”
He doesn’t answer. Just silence and tension. “Yeah. They’re tinted,” he says finally, eyes still forward.
“Great. Are you okay with that? I mean, you’ve probably seen hundreds of women. My body isn’t anything special.”
He says nothing. Just turns up the radio. “Good For You” By Selena Gomez pulses through the speakers, vibrating in my chest.
He hands me a floral duffel bag. “Here’s what you’ll need.”
I peek inside. From the products alone, this bag must be worth at least $1,500.
Rich people and their essentials.
I shouldn’t want to turn him on, but God, I do. He once said my existence was the problem, so I’ll be damned if I don’t become his favorite one.
“Are you sensitive to scented lotions?”
“No, why?” He says, staring straight ahead .
“Well, your assistant packed some in here. I usually put it on before getting dressed.” He goes still.
Not breathing. Not moving. I pull my tank top over my head, revealing a red lace bra that lifts just enough to make me look like I’ve got something to grab.
I shimmy my skort down to the floorboard, my bare skin hitting the heated leather seat.
My red lace thong clings to me. And in this moment, I feel sexy.
Dangerous. Desirable. Something I’ve never let myself be.
I glance over and damn, it’s exactly what I wanted to see. He’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. Like if he lets go, he might do something reckless. Something sinful. Something I’d beg him for.
“Umm… are you okay?” I ask.
“Mmmhmm.” He nods, keeping his eyes on the road.
I squeeze a bit of lotion into my palm and rub it along my legs, slowly, up to my hips, across my stomach. Deliberate. Sensual. I’m turned on. And I know he is too, just by how hard he’s resisting the urge to look at me.
The music amplifies the tension. His chest rises and falls like he’s struggling to stay in control. I gather my hair into a slick, chic bun, then add gold diamond studs and a simple necklace. But I’m not done yet.
“Does my hair look okay?” I ask, turning to him with a flutter of my lashes, my skin still dewy from the lotion, barely concealed in red lace.
He draws a slow, shaky breath, then turns to me, eyes dark, hungry, feral.
Time to step it up a notch.
I twirl the necklace around my fingers and bite my lip, just enough for him to notice.
“Does this necklace look okay? ”
He swallows hard. Then I see it, he shifts in his seat, adjusting.
There it is.
A long, thick erection trying to escape his designer pants.
Oh, hell yes. I just won.
He leans in, close enough for his breath to graze my cheek. “Lila,” he whispers, voice dark and possessive, “you better get those clothes on before I pull over and make you beg to cum.”
Well, I thought I was winning until I heard those filthy words roll off his lips.
We lock eyes, and his gaze drops to my mouth. This time, he bites his lip and smirks.
Fuck me.
“You’ll reach your destination in five minutes,” the GPS announces, slicing through the tension like a blade.
I tear my gaze away, pretending I wasn’t two seconds from crawling into his lap. “You wish,” I mutter, rolling my eyes as I break the stare. If I keep looking at him, we will never make it to our destination with what I want to do to him.
I slip into the black knee-length skirt and matching button-down.
I add a touch of blush, trace my eyes with liner, sweep on mascara, and finish with a pop of red lipstick.
Just enough to look alive. Presentable. I slide on a pair of sleek black heels, and just like that, I feel polished.
Powerful. Like I belong in his world. Even if it is only for a day.
I smile out the window as the GPS announces, “You have arrived at your destination.”
He turns right through a gold gate that towers over the car.
Why am I not surprised…
“I thought she was renting a house?” I ask, blinking .
“She is.”
“No,” I say, staring up at the sprawling estate. “This is a damn castle.”
And there she is. Natasha. She stands on the grand stone steps like a goddess carved from marble, pure elegance, poised and effortless. My confidence shatters in an instant. Suddenly, I feel ridiculous for everything I did in the car.
Because women likeher? They’re his reality. I’m just a girl playing dress-up in his world.