“Where are your little bodyguards now?” she finally asks, glancing around the nearly empty parking lot. “Or do you not need them to intimidate a woman half your size?”
I laugh, low and dangerous. “I don’t need anyone else to handle you, Seraphina.”
I crowd her against the passenger side of my Aston Martin, placing one hand on the car roof while the other stays firmly on her hip. Her back hits the door with a soft thud, and I press incloser, using my height and bulk to trap her between my body and the car. She has nowhere to go, and we both know it.
“Get in the car,” I tell her, my voice leaving no room for argument.
“Why should I?” she challenges, but there’s a slight tremor in her voice now.
“Because you’ve done enough damage for one night,” I say, leaning in until my lips almost brush her ear. “And because I’m taking you home.”
“I was already heading ther?—“
“Not your home,” I cut her off. “Mine.”
For a moment, I think she might try to run, but then she slides into the seat, her movements stiff with anger. I close the door firmly behind her and walk around to the driver’s side.
The engine purrs to life as I slide in beside her. I pull out of the parking lot, the tires squealing slightly against the pavement.
We drive in silence for several minutes, the tension between us thick enough to cut. She stares straight ahead, arms crossed tightly over her chest—over my jersey—her profile illuminated by the passing streetlights.
“What, nothing to say now?” I finally break the silence, glancing over at her rigid form. “You had plenty to fucking say earlier when you were parading around in another man’s jersey. Suddenly quiet as a mouse?”
“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction,” she says finally, her voice cold.
“Oh, you’ll give me plenty of satisfaction before the night is over,” I promise, turning onto the private road that leads to my property.
I pull into the circular driveway of my place—a modern three-story that most people would call a mansion, but compared to the Devereux estate, it’s practically a starter home. Still, it’s mine, and no one enters without my permission.
“Fuck you.”
“There it is,” I laugh, climbing out of the car and coming around to open her door. “Come on. Out.”
When she doesn’t move, I lean in, my face inches from hers. “Either you walk in on your own, or I carry you. Your choice, but you’re going inside.”
She slides out with as much dignity as she can muster, and I guide her up the walkway to the front door. The security system disengages with my fingerprint, and I usher her inside, flipping on lights as we enter.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” I say, gesturing around the expansive foyer with its marble floors and modern artwork. “Make yourself uncomfortable.”
She stands rigid in the center of the room, still wearing my jersey like it’s contaminating her skin. I watch her for a moment, enjoying her discomfort, before I reach down and pull off my sweaty jersey in one fluid motion. Her eyes widen slightly as I toss it aside, leaving my chest bare.
“What are you doing?” she asks, taking a step back.
“Getting comfortable,” I reply, hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my basketball shorts and pushing them down my legs, kicking them off to join the jersey on the floor. Now I’m standing in front of her in nothing but my black boxer briefs, and I don’t miss the way her eyes drop briefly to my crotch before darting away.
“Jesus Christ,” she mutters, turning her back to me. “Put some clothes on.”
“My house, my rules,” I say, walking past her toward the security panel. I punch in the code to arm the system, making sure she sees me do it. The panel beeps and flashes red as the alarm activates. “There. All locked up nice and tight.”
“You can’t keep me here,” she says, but there’s uncertainty in her voice now.
I turn to face her, not bothering to hide my smirk. “I’m going to take a shower. You can try to leave if you want, but the alarm will go off, and I don’t think you’ll enjoy meeting the security team assigned to this house. They’re not nearly as charming as I am.”
Walking up the stairs toward my suite I can feel her eyes glued to my ass and I’m enjoying every second of her gaze being on me.
I pause at the top of the stairs and look back at her over my shoulder. She’s still standing in the foyer, looking like she can’t decide whether to follow me or try to break a window to escape.
“You coming?” I ask, letting my voice drop to that register that makes women wet. “Or are you just going to stand there all night pretending you’re not staring at my ass?”
