“Ripley, get down on your knees.”
She blinks, but she’s obedient as she slides off me to the floor of the car, her hands reaching for my jeans.
I stifle a laugh as I cover her wrists, stopping her unzip as I lean my head back against the headrest, then close my eyes. “Quiet,” I hiss out.
“Are you serious?”
“Shh,” I say as the engines rumble louder.
“You’re really shushing me after you’ve asked for a BJ? My mouth would be full anyway.”
I laugh harder. I’m not sure I can survive this woman. “Ripley, there’s a car coming.”
“And you’re pretending you’re asleep?”
“Yes,” I mutter. “So no one thinks twice of me being parked and stops to try to help. No one can see you. I’m protecting you.”
A laugh bursts from her. “This better be a bodyguard first.”
“Trust me. It is.”
As the head of the convoy passes, I peek open an eye. I had a feeling. The woman in the passenger seat sports shaggy brown hair and big glasses—Vega, the director. The car whooshes by. The next car includes someone else I know—Wanda, our expert security hire.
A new, damning thought touches down in my head. What would she think if she knew what I’d done?
As the last vehicle passes, I catch a glimpse of a woman who looks just like the woman on the floor.
When they’re gone, I finally turn my gaze back to her mirror. Ripley’s cheeks are still pinkened, her lips still bruised, her hair a gorgeous, wild mess.
I’m keenly aware of just how far I’ve crossed the line, and just how close I came to getting caught because my steady pulse is beating out of control.
Guess I’m not so unflappable after all.
22
NO BIG DEAL
BANKS
When the coast is officially clear a few seconds later, I offer Ripley a hand. She doesn’t take it. Just climbs back up to the passenger seat as I move over to the driver’s side.
“I’m sorry,” I say, guilt twisting my gut as she settles in. But do I tell her I feel guilty? Do I tell her I shouldn’t have done that?
“It’s fine. You just caught me off-guard. I thought you wanted me to blow you,” she says.
Oh, right. She thinks I feel bad about the blow job misunderstanding when that’s the least of my worries. But it lightens the mood for a second. “And that bothered you?” I ask her.
She rolls her eyes. “I got down on my knees. Obviously, it didn’t bother me until I thought you were trying to shut me up with your dick.”
She’s so compliant and sassy at the same time. It’s too heady. Too tantalizing. I’ve got to get my act together. I resist playing verbalvolleyball with her this time, instead saying, “That was the crew. Everyone’s in town now.”
She sits ramrod straight. “Haven,” she says, as if she’s seen a ghost.
“She was in one of the cars.”
Ripley yanks the seat belt across her chest, nodding to the road, like we need to step on it. “I thought she was going to the inn. But I should be there when she arrives.”
“Why? I mean, I know we were heading there anyway, but…”
