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This time he didn’t hurry to open it. He stared at me first, as though giving me one final opportunity to reconsider whatever insanity had possessed me.

I folded my hands primly over my wrap, and Lachlan opened the message.

The third photograph had been one of the photographer’s favorites. I was lying across white sheets with my knees spread wide, one hand holding myself open while the other disappeared between my thighs.

Lachlan exhaled slowly through his nose.

“God almighty.”

That was all he said. I’d been hoping to put a bigger crack in that legendary control of his.

Then his hand slid beneath the wrap covering my lap, and under the loose skirt of my dress. His palm settled against my bare thigh and moved slowly higher.

But his fingers stopped just short of where I wanted them.

“Not yet, Mouse.”

He squeezed my thigh once, then withdrew his hand.

I turned to stare out the window.

On the surface, he was the image of perfect control, but the hard outline beneath his trousers said otherwise.

Neither of us spoke for the next few blocks. I could still feel the ghost of his hand high on my thigh, while the bulge beneath his trousers made a mockery of his calm expression.

Then the SUV turned down our street.

One photograph remained.

If I was going to break that maddening control of his, this was my last chance before we reached home, so I sent it.

His phone vibrated as the SUV descended into the underground garage.

Lachlan opened the message, and a rough breath caught in his throat.

The final photograph showed me on my knees with my chest lowered to the white sheets, my back arched and my knees spread wide. Nothing covered my ass, and one hand pulled a cheek aside, leaving very little hidden.

It was, by a considerable margin, the one image I’d thought he would lose his mind over.

Lachlan stared at it and didn’t say a word.

I’d gone to such effort to get a reaction out of him, but the sudden silence did more to my nerves than any threat he’d made.

The SUV rolled into its parking space.

The driver put it in park.

Lachlan locked his phone, shoved his door open, and stepped out. He jammed the phone into his trouser pocket, then slammed the door behind him.

I barely had time to uncross my legs before my door opened.

“Lachlan—”

He leaned in, pressed the seat-belt release, and caught me around the waist.

A startled laugh escaped me as he lifted me straight out of the SUV.

“Someone seems impatient.”