9. Chapter Nine - Veiled Intimacy
“What was your reason for doing that?” he asked, his voice low and even, delivered with the same easy control that made it impossible to tell whether he was pleased, confused, or merely cataloging something for later.
His expression barely shifted as he spoke, embodying the cool, unreadable composure that defined him.
“You need to wear it,” I replied softly.
My eyes dropped, and without meaning to, my tongue darted across my lower lip.
It was a nervous reflex that only sharpened my awareness of how close we were in the car.
His gaze followed the motion, lingering just long enough for my pulse to stumble.
I started talking again before he could read into it.
“Things can happen, and it would be scary if you got hurt.” My voice faltered as heat crept up my cheeks.
I scrambled for distance, verbal or otherwise.
“I mean… for your parents… obviously.” Smooth, Ira. Really nailed that recovery.
When I finally looked back up, a small shift flickered in his eyes. It was barely there, but enough for me to catch it. Surprise, perhaps. Or understanding. I couldn’t tell which.
“Should I begin wearing it starting today?” he asked quietly. His tone remained composed, yet a thread of empathy wove beneath the surface.
“D-Do what you want,” I muttered, suddenly uncomfortable with how exposed I felt under his attention. I tried to reclaim space, folding back into myself, but he still held my arm. Even the light contact clouded my thoughts. “Let me get back in my own bubble.”
A chuckle slipped from him, warm and low, vibrating from his chest rather than his throat. “You were the one who meandered into my bubble first,” he teased as he loosened his grip. Still, he didn’t move away. “Stay as long as you want, though.”
That didn’t make it easier. I pulled from his hold with a huff and reached into my pocket for my vape, bringing it to my lips like a lifeline. Then I paused, thumb hovering over the button. “Is… is it okay if I vape in your car?”
His nose scrunched in a small, honest reaction, and I hesitated again, expecting a no. Instead, he nodded slowly and shifted the car into drive. “You may do as you wish. Whatever makes you happy, my little lamb.”
“That sounds like a reluctant yes,” I grumbled, but temptation won. I took a long inhale, letting the sweet, fruity taste settle on my tongue before exhaling a soft cloud into the warm air.
My eyes flicked toward him. His nose twitched as the smoke drifted his way, his mouth tightening into a subtle grimace. I sighed, guilt seeping beneath the nicotine haze. “I can switch to a new flavor next week,” I offered, quieter now.
He glanced at me briefly. The distaste faded, replaced by something smug that bloomed slowly and satisfyingly. “You see me in your future next week?” God. This man could turn literally anything into flirting.
I let out a dramatic groan and sank deeper into the seat, tugging his jacket tighter around myself.
It was too warm and too comfortable, and with the heater humming and the car in motion, my guard felt harder to maintain.
“It’s not like I’ve got a choice,” I said.
“My Ma likes you, and that makes you hard to get rid of.” My ma liking him still felt like a betrayal.
If that pleased him, he didn’t need to say it. The entire car felt different in the silence that followed, as if it had shifted in quiet response to his satisfaction. His shoulders relaxed, the tension in his posture easing, and a smug undercurrent settled in the air without a single word.
“Don’t go getting any ideas,” I added, swatting lightly at his arm. Because somebody around here needed self-control, and it clearly wasn’t him.
“What could you ever mean by that?” he replied with exaggerated innocence.
He dragged one finger along his bottom lip like he was deep in thought.
It was ridiculous and somehow maddeningly seductive at the same time.
He leaned his elbow against the window, his gaze returning to the road, but the smirk didn’t leave his mouth.
“You know exactly what I mean,” I shot back, though my voice lacked the bite I intended. A mischievous spark ignited in my mind, and I leaned back with narrowed eyes. “Hmm. I wonder what kinda music you listen to.” Time to psychologically profile him like a normal person.
Before he could register the warning, I reached out and tapped the console, awakening the sound system with a quick flick of my finger.
The screen blinked to life, already synced to his phone.
I settled back with a slow, triumphant smile.
Music never lied about a person. People could, but music didn’t bother.
Sound filled the car. It was steady bass layered beneath breathy vocals, the unmistakable pulse of “RUNRUNRUN” sweeping through the speakers.
Dark, stylish, unsettling in the best possible way.
I knew this man listened to emotionally devastating music recreationally.
I arched a brow but held my comment, letting the rhythm draw me in.
I whispered along to the lyrics at first, then sang a little louder, leaning closer, wholly caught in the moment.
His lips parted, his gaze flicking toward me as if he hadn’t anticipated it at all. “Honestly, you tend to surprise me time and again,” he murmured, disbelief threaded with wonder in his tone. His hand moved before the words had settled, sliding into my hair and drawing me slightly closer.
I tensed and caught his wrist mid-motion, halting him before he could unravel me completely.
“Ugh,” I groaned, the music thrumming in the background.
“What did I say about petting me? I’m not a damn kid…
or a cat… or whatever you’re imagining I am.
” At this point I was one headpat away from losing my dignity permanently.
His fingers didn’t retreat immediately. They lingered just long enough to twist a strand of my hair before loosening. “Consider it instead,” he said smoothly, “a harmless way to show my affection.”
I rolled my eyes so hard it nearly hurt.
My skin betrayed me, however, with heat blooming up my neck.
The trace of his touch left a slow burn along my scalp and down my spine, and I silently battled how readily my body turned against me.
“You can show affection without laying hands on me,” I muttered, striving to sound unaffected. “Maybe use your words instead?”
“Touching you is more effective than words,” he replied, his lips curving into a smirk with surgical precision. He had to be flirting now. That much was certain. He wielded innuendo like a blade.
Heat surged up my throat, and I blurted the first thought that burst forth. “You perverted wolf!” The words cracked across the car, splitting the air between us. I yanked my wrist back and crossed my arms tightly over my chest, as if they could forge armor.
He laughed warmly, utterly unbothered. “Perverted? Is that how you see me?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation, staring out the windshield. “You’re a total pervert. You don’t even hide it. Dragging me to see your big fancy house, very subtle.”
His brow arched. “Are we back on this?” he said with mock weariness. “It is a very large house, Ira.” Men really did turn anything into a competition.
“Oh, I’m sure it is, Culver,” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Told by every girl who sees your money and decides to tell you what you wanna hear.”
He didn’t respond right away. His eyes remained fixed on the road, his jaw tightening subtly. Then he dragged his tongue slowly along his teeth. It was a small motion that felt far more suggestive than it should. Something in my stomach twisted in response.
Then he spoke, his voice dipping softer and quieter. “Are we still talking about my house? Or are we circling the elephant between us?”
I blinked, caught off guard, then laughed, pressing my palm against the seat. “An elephant?” I said incredulously. “You must be really proud of your little friend, huh, Culver?”
He scowled, though no real heat laced it. He exhaled as if I had worn him down. “Ira,” he said evenly, “you seem very interested in other parts of me. If you want a look, you only need to ask.”
I gasped and threw my hands up. My entire face felt like it might combust. “Who said I wanted to see anything?! See, this is exactly my point! You are a perverted wolf! What, you just think you’ll whip it out, I’ll have a look, and then we’ll carry on like it didn’t happen? Seriously?”
My heart barreled in my chest, heat crawling across my skin in ways I didn’t have the courage to analyze. The ridiculous back-and-forth between us pulled me in even as it left me flustered and on edge.
He let out a laugh, low and rough, as if he couldn’t help himself.
“You seem to forget that you are the one who brought it up.” He pulled the car into park with an easy flick of his wrist, but I barely noticed the shift.
I was too caught up in his words. “I was only offering an option to satisfy your curiosity. It is only natural to be curious.”
“Oh, sure,” I snapped, heat flooding my face. “You think I’m just going around asking guys to flash me? Like that’s my thing? ‘Hi, nice to meet you. Please show me your dick; I’m curious.'"
One second, we were locked in sharp, ridiculous banter; the next, my back met the cold glass of the window with a soft but unmistakable thud.
The impact stole my breath. Not from pain, but from sheer surprise.
His body boxed me in, close enough that I felt the electricity crackling from him through our layers of clothing.
I lifted my hand instinctively, pressing it to his chest to create space, but he didn’t budge.
He caught my other hand effortlessly, pinning it against the window with steady, unyielding pressure.
His palm was cold, matching the chill of the glass beneath my fingers, and it seeped through my sleeve into my veins.