I swallow and shift a little in the seat. I thought I’d been teasing when I’d said this drive would be like sex. Apparently, I was wrong.
“You’re smiling,” he says, without turning to look at me.
“I am,” I admit. “Because you’re happy.”
“I’m with you,” he replies. “Why wouldn’t I be happy?”
“Keep talking,” I say. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“I certainly hope so.” His voice is barely a murmur, but it is more than sufficient to make my body respond. My skin heats and beads of perspiration rise on the back of my neck at my hairline. My breasts feel heavy, as if I need the support of Damien’s hands upon them, and my now-hard nipples press enticingly against the silk of my sheath dress.
His comment may be simple and straightforward, but it holds a world of meaning. After all, he and I both know that there’s nowhere Damien can take me that I won’t be willing to go.
“We’re here,” Damien says, and I jump a little at the odd juxtaposition of his words to my thought. I gather myself, quickly realizing that he means that we’ve reached the A9. He accelerates onto the entrance ramp, the force pushing me back against the seat. I suck in air, invigorated by the speed and by the man beside me. “Do you have a plan?” he asks as he shifts gears.
I glance over and see that the speedometer is already approaching 175 kilometers per hour. “A plan?”
His brow quirks up with amusement. “This was your idea, remember? I thought you might have had something specific in mind.”
“No plan,” I admit as I toe off my shoes and put my feet up on the seat. “Nothing more than just cutting loose with you.”
“I like that plan,” he says. “And I know exactly where I want to get off.” He glances at me as he says the last, the deliciously devious gleam in his eyes so exaggerated that I can’t help but laugh.
“Perv,” I say.
“Only for you,” he retorts. I am hugging my knees, and he reaches over and traces his fingertip over the platinum and emerald ankle bracelet that was a gift from him, a physical reminder that I am his. As if I could ever forget.
His hand moves from the bracelet to the back of my thigh, the touch light and sensual. It’s nothing more than a simple caress, but my reaction to it is all sorts of complicated. Taut ribbons of heat shoot through me to pool between my legs, to tug at my nipples. How simple it is to fall into a pattern of touch and pleasure, of need and desire. It is as if I am in a constant state of starvation, and he is the sweetest ambrosia.
All too soon, though, the pressure is gone as he moves his hand to the radio, rolling through the stations until he settles on something with a heavy techno beat that fills the car. He shifts again and the engine hums as Damien weaves in and out of the minimal traffic. I settle back and let the rhythm pound through me as I watch this man who loves me. This man who I love, too. Who belongs entirely to me.
The thought comes unbidden, and I find myself frowning because it isn’t true. If he were truly my private property—mine, and mine alone—I could take him away from here. I could save him. I could make all of this legal horribleness go away.
But I can’t, and that inescapable truth creeps back under my skin, turning my previously light and giddy mood to something dark and foreboding.
I shift so that I am looking out of the passenger window at the line of trees passing in the night, odd shadows dancing across them, cast from the illumination of our headlights. I shiver, feeling unwound from such an ominous sight, as if we’re driving into a netherworld, but even that won’t save us from the desolate pull of reality.
I want to keep driving—I want to head east to where the sun will rise in five or so hours. I want to push this car to its limit and never stop. We’re in a bubble right now, safe from those dark grasping shadows. But the moment we stop . . . the moment we go back . . .
No. I draw a deep breath. I have to be strong. Not for me, but for Damien. “We should head back,” I say, but my voice is so low that I am certain he cannot hear me over the music that now fills the car. I reach for the radio and press the power button, throwing us into silence.
Damien glances at me, and I see the joy on his face shift to concern as his eyes meet mine. “What is it?”
“We should go back.” I try to speak up, but my voice is still unnaturally soft, as if my will is fighting me, silently begging me to urge him to run. “You need rest.” I force the words out, pitching my voice to sound natural. “Tomorrow’s going to put us both through the ringer.”
“All the more reason to keep going as long as we can.”
I swallow a throat full of tears. “Damien.”
I expect him to say soothing words. To reassure me that everything will be okay. Instead, he simply brushes my cheek, the gesture sending shock waves through me and once again making tears well in my eyes. I clench my hands into fists and fight against the crying jag that is about to explode out of me. I can’t lose it. Not now. Hell, not ever. If I lose Damien, I’ll cry then. And until I know one way or the other, I want to spend every second doing nothing but simply being with him.
I manage a smile that is almost genuine and turn to him.
“Soon.” He hits the accelerator, and the car speeds up.
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace I want you to see.”