Chapter 26
RAINE
“And if I do something you don’t want?” he asks.
“I can say it.” I should say it. I shouldn’t want this as much as I do. He’s my boss, or at least one of them. The gentlemen. He feels like anything but one right now. Dangerous. So dangerous because I can see myself saying things I normally wouldn’t. Doing things I normally wouldn’t.
“Good girl.” He kisses up the side of my neck to the tender spot behind my ear.
I’m so worked up from the week of thinking about him and Evander that I hiss when he sucks hard.
His hand has my shoulder pinned to the back of the seat.
His thumb digs into my collarbone. The slight pinch has my hips rising off the seat.
Like they’re trying to find him on their own.
It’s a kiss. I drop my hips to the leather seat, bracing my feet against the floor to keep me from floating.
He chuckles. “You’re so reactive.” His fingertips skim down my side, and he pulls me onto his lap.
My lips part to speak, but my throat’s too dry; my brain fizzles, and all thoughts—rational or otherwise—vanish. It’s just him.
His fingers are on the button of my slacks. I wish I’d worn a skirt now. I want his hands on my skin. A flick of the zipper and I have my wish. His index finger swirls around my clit.
There’s a buzzing, loud enough that I open my eyes.
There’s nothing else in the car. It’s me.
I’m vibrating. I’ve never felt this way.
It doesn’t just rip me from the moment but Roark too.
His light blue eyes hold mine. This close, I can pick up the dark blue bits that pepper them.
Our chests inflate and deflate together.
“I’ve forgotten myself.” Roark’s lips form an unmoving straight line. He zips me up and places me in the seat next to him, then pulls the seat belt across me. There’s a pang in my chest when he slides to the far side of the car and pushes the intercom button. “Ready to head back home?”
The car bounces over a low curb on the way out of the lot.
If the bubble of the last few hours wasn’t broken before, it is now.
The flush that I know is on my face has gone from desire to embarrassment faster than the speed limit.
Did I force things? He clearly stopped because we shouldn’t be groping each other in the car.
Not only is he my boss, but I’ve already kissed my other boss.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m not a crier, but I’m holding back tears now. I’ve screwed this whole thing up. A shiver runs through me. I’m freezing, even though it’s sweltering outside.
Roark pulls down the armrest between us. Fuck. I’ve really messed up. I gaze back out the window, trying my best to seem interested in the sights and not like I’m holding my shit together by a string.
“Here Raine, you look cold.” He lays a cashmere throw over the top of my legs.
“Thank you,” I say. Because I’m not capable of anything else.
The scenery rushes by. The city fades to suburbs and then goes straight to the beauty of the countryside in less than twenty minutes.
Whether it’s the drop of adrenaline from Roark pulling away or the relief of having the interview over, I fall asleep.
When I wake up, my head is on Roark’s lap, the armrest up.
“Oh, sh— I’m sorry.” I right myself and try to slyly wipe the drool off my chin with the back of my hand.
“You’re fine, Duchess,” Roark says, taking my hand and holding it on my lap.
Now I’m fine? Sleeping in his lap, holding my hand? Third base is a lot different from holding hands and making puddles of drool on someone’s thousand-dollar designer suit. My eyes zero in on the golf-ball-sized circle of drool on his pants.
“It’s no trouble, Raine.” He squeezes my hand but doesn’t let it go.
“I didn’t realize I was so tired.”
“You’ve been working too hard.”
“It’s not work when you love it.”
“Unless you work the love out of it.”
“I don’t see how that could be possible. This is a dream job. I . . . I am very grateful for the job, and I hope . . .”
“You’ve done nothing to put your job in jeopardy. I’m the one who overstepped, but I will not apologize for something I’m not sorry for.” He places his other hand over the top of our clasped ones.
The binders on the floor shift and slide into his feet.
“Sorry,” I say, moving them to my side. With Wren coming on Friday, I was going to take some time off. “How is the village inn?” I’m desperate to change the subject.
“Why would you need to know that?”
“Wren, my sister . . .” But then he already knows Wren is my sister. He had my phone. “She’s coming to visit me Friday, just for one day. She has to be back in Zurich on Saturday night. She has an early morning flight.”
“She can stay at the castle.”
“Ah, are you sure? Evander and Kieren were pretty specific with the NDA.”
“Yes, I’m sure. There are lots of empty rooms.”
“Oh, I’d like it if she stayed with me. It’s her birthday.”
“Her birthday, yes. That’s a human custom.”
“You don’t celebrate your birthday?” This lighthearted conversation I started to make me forget about crawling-being-pulled into his lap is taking a rather serious turn.
“No, we celebrate the day our thunder is complete.”
“And what day is that?” I can’t help myself.
He glances down at the footwell and up at me. “I don’t know. It hasn’t happened yet.”
“Oh, a thunder isn’t a business or a brotherhood but a—”
“A fated mate group.”
That feels very much like a real answer, and my heart squeezes. “Oh, so you’re going to—”
“We will share one female, yes.” A puff of smoke rises from his nose.
My throat closes, and it’s not from the steam coming from him. It doesn’t smell like tobacco or sulfur. I don’t know why I always thought dragon’s smoke would smell like sulfur. It’s lightly sweet-smelling, but not overly so. Warm apples? I can’t quite pin it down.
I’m having a definite reaction, thinking about the woman who’s going to end up with the three of them.
If I’d been asked if I wanted to date three guys a month ago, I would have laughed myself out of my seat.
But now? The three of them? Maybe. I still don’t trust Kieren.
His dragon tried to carry me away for a little snack.
Or at least, that’s what it seemed like to me.
But Evander is charming, and Roark’s protectiveness hits me in the right way.
He wasn’t asking me to be his . . . anything. Anyway, ShifterToday said . . . “Won’t you know your fated—thunder—mate right away?”
There’s another puff of smoke. His forehead wrinkles. “It doesn’t always work with our type of dragons like that. It can take time. Or it can hit immediately. It varies from thunder to thunder.”
“Oh.” My gut tightens. The job that’s too good to be true.
Being invited to eat dinner with them when none of the other staff are.
The flirting. I turn away from him, staring out the window.
I’m not sure if I’m upset at not being given a job because of my qualifications or in awe of the ruse they’ve seemingly created to draw me here.
But why me? Why now? “How do you know where to look for your mate?”
“Most thunders don’t,” he says, holding my eyes.
“But your thunder?”
“Has had some help.” He squeezes my hand again but lets go this time.
There he goes again. He’s the master of giving information without giving answers. “And has that help been, well, helpful?”
“It’s been mostly frustrating.”
“I see . . . No, I don’t. Can you just tell me?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, that’s not a no.”
“It’s not a no.” He smiles and wraps his arm around my shoulder.