‘There. That’s what I want,’ he murmurs silkily, his fingers finding the soft flesh of my inner thigh. ‘Anymore whining from you and I’ll be forced to make you moan all the way.’
‘You wouldn’t, we’re in the car—we’ll get arrested!’ True, the windows are almost completely blacked out by tint, but it’s still a risk I’m not willing to take. ‘We could have an accident!’
‘I thought we almost did,’ he rumbles. ‘Do as you’re told and put on some music.’
‘Bossy,’ I grumble as I pick up the connected iPhone and scroll through his music. ‘Maybe I’ll have a sticky-beak at your pictures,’ I tease, but I’m only half joking as I stare at him from under my lashes, gauging his reaction.
‘Sticky? A look? Be my guest.’
Torn between the avaricious need to know, and the saner version of myself that I’d like to portray, I try not to but don’t succeed. As my thumb swipes the appropriate icon, I feel a little queasy at the images I might find.
There are a couple of images of building sites. One of what looks like heather—‘Montmartre, Paris,’ he says—but other than that, as I swipe the screen, my face appears time after time. Hair billowing out around a pillow, eyes closed, and pouting.
‘When did you take these?’ I ask absently as I scan.
‘Whenever. While you sleep.’ His reply is soft, his eyes resolutely ahead. My heart swells at that moment, like a balloon in my chest. He watches me while I sleep. That must be a bit of adoration there, I hope. ‘You’ve gone my favourite colour,’ he murmurs as his eyes flick my way.
‘Boiled lobster?’
‘I think I’d call it Aftermath Red.’
‘I doubt that one’s on the colour chart. Why aftermath?’
‘It’s a similar shade to when you’re all swollen lips and just fucked.’
The words bloom and blossom inside in an aching instant. ‘Maybe it should be Cardinal Red,’ I whisper.
‘Why, are you worried about your eternal soul? If God was against sex, surely he wouldn’t have made it feel so good.’
‘You’d have sold loads from that apple cart,’ I reply. My eyes flutter closed as his fingers find my knee. Laughing softly, he moves his hand back to the steering wheel, and without the distraction, I resume flicking through his phone.
There are at least a dozen photos of me, and in not one do I recognize having been conscious of posing. Okay, there are a few I look completely unconscious in, but at least I’m covered. By a sheet. Even if I do look kind of mussed-up and sexed in them. Cute and flattering, in a bit of a stalkerish way. Should I feel disturbed?Oh. Maybe. There’s one of my naked nipple. I’d recognise that one in a cold line-up any day.
‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist.’ He laughs as his eyes slide to the phone. ‘Must’ve been a cold night.’
I clear my throat, but really, I don’t mind. Truthfully, I’m secretly thrilled. ‘Music?’
‘That was the original plan.’
Randomly selecting a playlist, the soft strains ofDire Straitsleak from the stereo system, the sweet opening melody of Romeo and Juliet fills the car.
‘An old one but a good one,’ he approves.
We’re each silent, just enjoying listening, I suppose. Then, for a brief moment, the lyrics almost strike a chord, the words ringing in my head. Words about falling for riches and pretty strangers. Falling for their promises. As I push their echoes from my head, a line from Shakespeare’s play appears instead:They stumble that run fast.
Please,I silently pray.Don’t let this song be prophetic. For there has been nothing slow or wise in falling in love with Kai.
Sometime later we arrive at a walled compound and a set of imposing entrance gates, solid with an air of impenetrability. Security cameras slowly turn in our direction, the gates mechanically opening a moment later. Inside the compound the land is very green, palm trees and grass forming a large turning circle with several avenues drawing off in sand coloured paths. Kai takes the centre option, driving through a road lined with trees that look a little sandblasted, pulling up at the entrance of a house shortly after. Though mansion might be a better description for it. Spanish hacienda meets Moorish design, the sprawling mud-brick effect building is roofed in terracotta tiles; wrought iron gates and impressive archways the immediate focus.
‘Is this your house?’ I ask, my heart beating a little faster. Am I really going to see hisactualhome, not his hotel suite?
‘No, this is my mother’s home.’
I feel slightly put-out, and a little disappointed, as the front doors open, Kai’s mother, Mishael stepping out into the daylight. She glides down the steps, adjusting sunglasses in response to the intense light.
‘How lovely!’ she exclaims as Kai opens my door. ‘I was beginning to worry.’
‘My fault, Mum, sorry were late. We stopped for cake.’ Kai smirks in my direction as he extends a hand to help me out.
