of Talent reaches my nose and then my tongue. I sit back and close my eyes, memorizing how it makes me feel in case I never have the opportunity to ride in a car as beautiful as this one again.
“Are you sure you want to go home?” Talent asks, slipping into the seat beside me. We buckle our seat belts simultaneously. He looks at his wristwatch and says, “I can reschedule my day if you want to stay.”
Regretfully, I shake my head. “I need to get back.”
The sun is up, and we’ve run out of time.
Not only that, but I’m also supposed to meet with Inez for dinner, and Camilla has her first date with a client tonight. Inez thought it would be a good idea to send her on a traditional date with a client before moving on to a schedule like mine. I’d like to be home when she returns.
The first time is never easy.
Talent’s jaw muscles tense, like he can’t accept my answer and might argue. Instead, he dips the car into gear and accelerates out of the parking garage. The only cars I commute in are SUVs, town cars, and the occasional limousine. This is a rush, and laughter bubbles in my throat before we’ve hit the street.
Are we even on the road? Because this feels like we’re sailing through the air.
“Faster,” I demand. I sit straight and tighten the strap across my chest. Unsure of where to hold on to, I grip the seat and giggle.
I fucking giggle.
Gray eyes drink me in, and the smirk that bends the right side of his mouth swallows me whole. A rush of excitement jets through my veins, and I’d probably clap like a kid on Christmas morning if I didn’t have a death grip on the seat.
“Hold on tight, baby,” Talent says, dropping his foot on the gas.
Anticipation feels like the slow click, click, click to the top of a roller coaster right before the drop. In the second between when Talent guns the accelerator and when the car jets forward, we float in time, weightless and freed. My heart seizes, air catches in my lungs, and I’m released from everything but dopamine dropped on my brain like a bomb.
If I felt like we were sailing through the air before, this feels like a torpedo propelling toward a target across the world. The Lamborghini races down the street, leaving my heart, lungs, and rationality behind to catch up.
Talent disrespects traffic laws, maneuvering between other cars on the road with ease, shooting through yellow lights before they turn red, and narrowly missing a city bus that turns onto the road without checking its mirrors.
“Want to drive?” Talent asks. He slows the car as we approach a busy intersection, but ultimately decides he can make it through safely and whooshes past the other cars like a speeding train.
Laughter erupts from me, and I admit, “Only if you want to die. I don’t know how to drive.”
Zigzagging between traffic, Talent takes a sharp right turn onto my street and says, “We can fix that. I’ll teach you how to drive.”
Talent pulls along the curb in front of my apartment building and turns the car off. Dizzy with adrenaline, my hands tremble and I can’t wipe the smile from my face. “That was the most incredible thing I’ve done in a long time. Maybe ever.”
He lets out a short breath and says, “I don’t get to drive it too often. There’s no fucking way I’m not getting a speeding ticket in the mail.”
“The fact that you drive anything else when you own a Lamborghini is a shame, Ridge.” I unbuckle the seat belt with shaky fingers and say, “But does that mean I was right about the unpaid traffic tickets?”
His smirk somersaults from charming to devious. “You’ll wish all it was is unpaid tickets, Lydia.”
Do I kiss him goodbye? Thank him for the memorable night? How do I say goodbye to someone who brought so much raw emotion out of me and go on to live my life like it never happened?
I start by reaching over and cupping his face with my hand. He turns slightly to kiss the inside of my palm, never taking his eyes off of me. The car is suddenly crammed with the things left unsaid, incomplete and muddled, and I don’t have it in me to piece the words together to form coherent sentences.
“Quit trying to say goodbye to me, Lydia,” Talent says. He covers my hand