“Let me drive you home,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Please?”
I want to lean into his touch; he has a hold over me that makes me feel weak. I jerk back, slapping his hand away. “Are you mad? As if I’d go anywhere with you. Leave now! I need to lock up.”
“I’m not letting you walk home alone. It’s getting dark out.” His eyes keep dropping to my lips, and I decide to play with him a bit. I dart my tongue out, wetting them.
Nice. And. Slowly.
“You didn’t have an issue with me walking home on Saturday morning,” I remind him, folding my arms in front of me.
He steps in closer, his nostrils flaring as his solid chest bumps against my arms. “No, I didn’t get a chance to. You ran off like a child before I could even get dressed.” He stares down at me, accusing, intense.
“That’s a shame, isn’t it? Leave.” I shoulder past him out onto the street.
He follows behind, his annoyance at my brush-off blatant as he mutters profanities under his breath.
I’m sure he planned to come here tonight, apologise, and expect me to drop down at his feet. I mean, I can’t imagine he is used to rejection. The mans a stud. An annoyingly handsome, rude stud.
I lock the door and turn, not expecting him to be standing directly behind me. He leans forward, caging me in with his arms on either side of my head. He looks down his perfectly imperfect nose at me, and my resistance wilts under his stare.
“I’m driving you home,” he tells me in a no nonsense ‘you will do as I tell you’ tone.
But he has seriously underestimated me if he thinks he can make demands and expect me to bow down to them.
“What makes you think I’d do what you want?” I whisper, close enough to his lips that I can see the golden flecks in his eyes but not so close that they touch.
Inside, I tell myself it’s to see how far I can push him, but I also wonder what I’d do if he closed the distance between us. Just an inch closer, and we’d touch.
My heart thumps against my chest as his eyes dart all over my face, his lips parting.
I turn my head away before he can close the distance between us, and he quickly dips his head, finding my eyes. Our gazes lock, sending a jolt of adrenaline through my entire body. His eyes are almost black now, his brows drawn low, making him look almost troubled. He might be the most handsome man I’ve ever met.
“I have good word from asolidsource that you are likely to fulfil my wants and needs.” He pops a brow, and I drop my head back to the door, needing the distance it creates.
“Oh, really, and who is this solid source?” I mutter, lost in his eyes.
He smirks, and I curse myself for taking the bait. “My cock.”
Shaking my head, I smile sweetly up at him. “I’m afraid that’s a rather unimpressive source, Mr Lowell.”
Before he can see it coming, I duck under his arm, flinging my bag onto my back as I take off on a run, knowing he isn’t wearing the footwear to chase me.
I make it a couple hundred yards down the street before I see his Bentley out the corner of my eye.
“Get in the car,” he growls through the open window.
I look at him, frowning. What kind of fool thinks that attitude will work? I up my pace.
“You’re acting like a child. Let me drive you home, and I won’t bother you again.”
“You promise? Although, you aren’t all that good at keeping those,” I tease, continuing to make him mad.
Running was my escape growing up. I could keep this up all night.
“Last chance,” he warns, a white-knuckle grip on his steering wheel.
“I like my chances Bossman, I wouldn’t be so sure of yours.” I sass before darting off down a side street. I hear his tyres screech to a halt, then his car door being thrown open. I sprint down the cobbled path as car horns blare from the road.
I turn my head back to look at him, but he isn’t chasing me. He’s at a standstill, staring after me with a perplexed look on his face and absolutely no regard for the traffic jam he is causing.
