Full Throttle
The low growl of an engine outside cut through their banter.
Penny’s head snapped toward the window, her green eyes going wide. “Oh my God.” She spun around, practically vibrating.
“Your chariot awaits…” Her grin widened. “And it’s even sexier than I expected.”
Arden frowned, amused. “What are you talking about?”
She tugged on her coat, glancing at Penny’s expression, which had turned downright gleeful.
“I knew he was pulling out all the stops tonight,” Penny said. “He’s always thoughtful, but this?”
She gestured toward the window like she was unveiling a work of art “This is on another level.”
Arden shook her head, brushing off the comment, even as her pulse quickened. “It’s dinner, Pen.”
Penny’s arched brow said otherwise.
Her grin? Only deepened.
“Sure, it is. Just dinner with the gorgeous billionaire who clearly worships the ground you walk on.”
Arden rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth had betrayed her. “You’re way too invested in this.”
“Of course, I am!” Penny threw up her hands. “If you’re not going to appreciate the sexy-AF boss situation, someone has to pick up the slack.”
Then, mock-serious: “Oh, and if he actually brings you back, I want details.”She paused. Tilted her head. “Actually, scratch that—I want dessert. Something fancy.”
Arden smirked, shaking her head as she opened the door.
Outside, the engine purred again, smooth as velvet, deep as a promise.
The evening air curled around her, cool against her skin, threaded with tension that wasn’t about the weather.
Her breath caught.
The car gleamed under the streetlights, a midnight-black Roadster SV with curves that promised speed and sin. Every inch of it whispered power and indulgence.
But it came second to the man beside it.
Gideon leaned against the driver’s side like he owned the night.
The navy jacket stretched clean across his shoulders, tailored to distraction. His collar was open enough to tempt, to hint that beneath all that control, wildness waited, coiled.
Not careless.
Intentional.
Arden stepped outside.Her heels met the pavement in slow, percussive rhythm. Each step wound the tension tighter. She took her time, gaze drifting from the gleam of the car to the man who made it look like an accessory.
She stopped at the curb, arms folding as her mouth curved.
“Hmm… I’m not sure which is sexier,” she said, voice smooth and sensual. “You… or the car.”
Gideon pushed off the door, that crooked smile in place. He moved toward her with unhurried confidence, every step a dare.
“Tough call,” he murmured, low and rough. “But I think I can tip the scales.”
