“I’m not fucking six.”
“Tell me that after you’ve taken a dive through the windscreen onto the asphalt because we’ve had to brake suddenly.”
“We’re doing under five miles an hour.”He wrestles the belt from my fingers, and pushes me away.“I can manage.Thanks.”
“Sure you’re not too distracted by Bask’s cherry buns?”
Shit!I didn’t mean to say that aloud, even though I know it’s what he was thinking.His gaze is still fastened on the guy, which is why he hasn’t managed to lock his belt into place yet.I expect a whiplash response, but he surprises me by turning his head and instead of biting mine off, he levels an appraising look in my direction.“I see how it’s going to be.Is Bask top of the studio’s “shit to ensure I avoid” list, or are there higher rankers?”
“I… There isn’t a list, Mr.Drake.Obviously you’re free to interact with whomever you wish.”
“So if I tell yon driver here—” he nods towards Johns, “—to pull over and let my friend in, he’ll do that?”
Johns raises the partition glass between us, making Dylan snort.
“Figures.You know this is bullshit?”
Sure, I know it.It doesn’t change a thing.
We spend the next ten minutes riding in silence, heads turned in opposite directions as we watch the outside world pass by through our respective windows—bright city lights, tree-lined avenues, pedestrians pausing to watch the car slide by.I fully admit the evening hasn’t got off to the best of starts, and most of that is my fault.I was far too keen to suspect the worst earlier resulting in an awkward introduction to one another, and then I ought to have just asked him to belt up instead of attempting to do the job for him.Now he’s pissed off over my presence, and I just know he’s going to take every opportunity to be obnoxious and uncooperative.
I really ought to make the effort to defuse things, and attempt to win his trust.If I’m going to keep him safe, we need to forge a relationship that’s based on something other than ire.The sticking point is how to do that.How do I build a professional relationship with a man I’m desperately attempting to suppress lewd thoughts about?I turn my head and note the vast acreage of leather seat between us.Building a bridge across that chasm seems an architectural impossibility.
I cough to clear my throat.“Is there anything about your plans for the night I should be aware of in advance?”
“Yeah,” he drawls in reply, his delivery entirely serious.“If I disappear off to some secluded spot, it’s probably because I’m screwing, and I don’t require an audience.”
“You’re planning to have sex at the event?”
The grin that peels his lips back over his teeth and turns into a rumbling laugh just about slays me.
“I’m not planning anything.I endeavour to go with the flow.Where that leads, who knows?What I said was that if shagging occurs, I’d prefer it if you didn’t ruin the moment with your presence.”
“I don’t see that I ruined anything for you earlier.”The words are out before I’ve engaged the brain, and worked out that a simpleRequest noted, would have sufficed.“You still came.You didn’t shrivel…”
Somehow our gazes lock, and something raw zaps between us, something that feels very much like sexual tension, but which is likely only felt on my part.I’m uncomfortably hot, despite the chill of the air-con that Johns has ramped up.I don’t know what I’m doing here.I ought to have spelled it out to Howard that this is a bad idea, but I just couldn’t deprive myself of the pleasure, or risk the rebuke.
Dylan Drake in the flesh is worth ten of the celluloid variety.He’s pretty in the way even the most rugged of actors seem to be these days.Dark hair falls over his face when he tilts his head, escaping the bounds of whatever styling product he worked through the strands earlier.His eyes are twin shards of cobalt blue.They glitter when the light hits them, revealing inner warmth.
Not that he’s displaying a whole lot of warmth to me.
“Will my lock be fixed by the time we return?You have to admit, it makes for awful easy access otherwise.Any old nutter could walk in.”
“There’s a team already on it.”
“Hm.”He sniffs, giving the distinct impression that wasn’t necessarily the answer he wanted to hear, even though surely it’s the outcome he wants.
“Your safety is our priority, Dylan.”
His gaze snaps tight to mine again when I say his name.“Of course, and I’m utterly appreciative of that fact.”
Sarky bugger doesn’t mean a damn word of it.No matter, if we both have to pretend to get through this, then that’s what we’ll do.I’ll pretend I’m a professional, and not a crazy woman who’d dearly like to strip him naked and work on convincing him to turncoat, and he can pretend he doesn’t mind being babysat like he’s a teenage tearaway.That’s when I notice how he’s sitting, legs splayed, not because he’s manspreading and trying to occupy more space, but because he still has a raging hard on.
He came.
I watched it happen.
So why’s he still turned on now?
