“And would those also be businesses you own?”
His soft laugh makes my toes curl. “Guilty.”
“Where would the closest school be? I’ve still got to complete my final year.”
Micah’s happiness drops away, and he shifts in his seat, turning towards the window while his hands clasp together. “We don’t need to sort everything tonight. Sebastian will work those details out later.” He turns back in time to read my frown. “Sebastian is my household manager.”
“Right. Is he now in charge of me as well?”
He subtly shakes his head then disengages from the conversation entirely in favour of staring out his window.
I look blankly out my side as well, giving up on my feeble attempts to make conversation. The movement of the car is rhythmic enough to be relaxing now we’re in a less crowded part of the motorway.
“Do you want to stop somewhere for food?” Micah asks after a few minutes of silence. “Since neither of us got to eat tonight.”
The rush of competing emotions when I think of why we didn’t tips me back into a foul mood. “No,” I say through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to stop for food.”
“You sound upset about something.”
I turn back to face him, noting the half-smile is back. This time it feels like an expression he wears just to tease me.
My neck twists until I’m staring blankly ahead as I mutter, “I can’t imagine why that would be.”
“Neither can I. Of all the applicants for your hand in marriage, I’m far and away the best.”
There’s such a jollity behind his tone it winds me up even further. He wants to banter, and I want to sink my fingers into his eye sockets until the fluid from his eyeballs drips out to trickle down his face.
Rough perhaps, but that’s what happens when you’re the daughter of a gangster. Especially one whose trust issues with babysitters meant I was often along for the ride.
Instead of acting out my fantasy, I clasp my hands in my lap and keep my eyes fixed on them. “My dad has a good nose for money but no amount of zeroes in his bank account can offset his atrocious taste.”
He splutters out a laugh and my eyes flick over to him, then dart away again in fright. Not because he looks evil but because the golden tones of the city streetlights do something incredible to his skin and it’s hard to maintain the desire to kill someone when they’re channelling an ancient roman god.
“You better be careful, little girl. If you rile me up the wrong way…”
The pause as he leaves the sentence hanging makes my eyelid twitch. “You’ll what? Pack me up and send me home again? Oh, no. How will I survive?”
I think he’s not going to answer. His gaze returns to his window, the blankness of his broad shoulders giving me plenty of space to rethink my outburst. Just when I’m about to take an apology for a test run, I hear the soft snick as he undoes his seat buckle. The whirr as the belt winds away.
My body tenses and I grip hold of the door handle. If I open it here, I’ll spill onto the road, smash my skull into pieces. I curl my fingers away, so they won’t be tempted to tug it open.
Then Micah moves so suddenly that one moment I’m staring at him across the width of the rear seat, and the next his face is a centimetre from mine.
Fear hasn’t even fully embedded its claws when he takes my left hand and puts it on his crotch. I can feel his hardness, growing further when I try to pull away. His free hand grabs me around the back of my neck, holding me still as his mouth moves to my ear. “Keep talking to me like that and I’ll have to find something else to occupy your mouth.”
I keep still, my eyes closed, trying not to imagine the scene he’s threatening. My trick of focusing on the here and now doesn’t work because the here and now is his hard cock under my hand.
You did that,my mind chatters and there’s a surge of pride that catches me off guard. Instead of a threat, my head spins it around, landing on a triumph.Feel how much he wants you, an unknown inner vixen giggles as my hand gently moves, rubbing along his thick length.
A pool of heat gathers between my legs until I press them together, stifling a moan when, instead of smothering, the warmth spreads.
My fingers memorise the outline of his cock through his pants, the thick fabric doing nothing to hide his arousal. The heel of my palm presses against him, caressing him as my hips tilt upwards, seeking contact.
His low chuckle vibrates across my neck, intensifying every sensation until it turns into a groan. The hand covering mine helps me, guides me across his bulge until the pressure turns into a steady rhythm. His breathing changes, shortens, sends another frisson of excitement racing along the length of my arms as I understand he’s taking pleasure from my touch. Enjoying me. This strange, appallingly handsome man who chose me on a whim. Who’s so wealthy he doesn’t need my father’s money. Doesn’t need a leg-up in the organisation.
But still chose me.
I tilt my head back and his lips find mine, claiming them in a way that feels triumphant. A thousand miles from the kiss he placed on me in front of the entire room back at the restaurant. His mouth is soft but demanding and I give myself over to the new experience, my mind lost under a tangle of signals careening around my body, demanding satisfaction.
