Chapter Fifty
Outside, it’s another hot one today, my sunglasses instantly fogging as the cool of the lenses react with the moisture in the air.
‘What happened to the grey one?’
‘Grey? Oh, the Bentley?’ Kai asks, continuing to the black SUV standing in the Bentley’s parking space. ‘Rashid. We need this one for today.’
‘Why, where are we going?’
‘It’s a surprise.’
‘I don’t like surprises,’ I whine as he points the key fob at the mammoth SUV. Its lights flash like a warning beacon as I admit to myself that isn’t strictly true. In my secret reveries, I adore surprises, but that’s only when they take me by surprise, as in I have no knowledge of anything coming my way. When I’ve an inkling of a surprise, it’s like an itch I can’t reach.
‘You don’t?’ he asks, eyes widening in simulated surprise. ‘Even when you’ve learned how liberating it can be to let someone else take control?’
I don’t have an answer as he opens the car door, holding out his hand in assistance.
‘Are you sure you can’t just tell me?’
‘Good things come to those who wait,’ he replies, voice dripping with suggestion again.
I decide to sit quietly, mainly as I don’t have a witty retort.
Tucked into the luxurious interior, I’m reminded of the last time I rode in this car, marinating in sensory overload. My mind feeds from image to image of that evening like charms on a chain.
‘Are you cold?’ Kai asks as his seatbelt clicks and he settles himself. ‘Or is the smell of leather turning you on?’ he jokes as the engine roars to life.
‘You’re not far wrong,’ I murmur in an undertone. Damn him and his body perceptions. If he hears my words, he tactfully, or maybe surprisingly, doesn’t say, instead reaching for my hand across the console as he pulls away from the curb.
‘So you can’t give me a hint at this mystery destination?’
His eyes gleam with mischief. ‘I could, I’m just not going to. You’re the least patient person I know.’
‘I’ll just whine all the way. Are we there yet, are we there yet?’
‘You’ll force me to take evasive action.’
‘Yeah, right,’ I scoff. ‘While you’re driving? Do your worst, mate.’
His eyes on the road, he glances at me. ‘Did you just call memate?’
‘I could call you stud, if you’d prefer. Or spunk.’
‘I’m not sure I much like being referred to as seminal fluid and we’ve already established I’m not your friend, pal or mate. Come here,’ he commands casually.
‘No way,’ I reply with no small hint of incredulity in my tone.
‘Come here, or I’ll pull over and come to you.’
‘We’re on the freaking highway!’
‘There’s always the hard shoulder.’
‘That’s for emergencies.’
‘This could be critical. Come here.’
He tugs at my hand, pulling me playfully towards him as I shuffle closer, stopping as my hip hits the middle console. Loosening his hand from mine, he lowers it to my skirt, his fingers gathering the cotton material in small increments. Mesmerized, I watch those elegant hands and corded forearms, veins and tendons prominent with the movement.
