brings a smile to my face. What I wouldn’t give … “I don’t blame you. They treat me like shit, too.” With a sigh, I sit up on the bed, holding the crumpled sheet to my breast, and glance around the room. “If I lived here, I probably wouldn’t want to leave, either.”
“They treat you like shit, too. Why?”
Shrugging, I pull my knees up to my chest. “Because of my mom, mostly. I guess I inherited her reputation.”
“Isn’t that always the case.” It’s not a question, and there’s a kindred spark behind his eyes as he studies me.
“It was really bad, my first couple years of high school. The other kids and their parents, teachers, they all treated me like I was some kind of plague.” Memories of my first day filter in, when I sat eating lunch under the staircase, just looking for a place to breathe. “It gets easier after a while. Almost like their hate becomes part of your skin.” I run my finger over the tiny ridges of scars along my forearm. “Surface. As long as it stays on the surface, it can’t touch who you are inside.”
“On second thought, I would like to accompany you today.”
A zap of surprise washes over me with his sudden change of heart. “Really?”
“Really. I’ll drive.”
Expecting to see Lucian dress casual is like expecting a star to be less brilliant. No matter what he’s wearing, he always looks like a million bucks.
As he takes my hand, leading me down a hallway I haven’t yet ventured into, wearing a short-sleeve, black button-down and dark jeans, I have to remind myself not to stare at his ass the whole time. It’s uncanny to me, the way the man can fill a pair of denim with the same ruthless sex appeal as when he’s dressed in one of his sharp suits.
A delicious orange sandalwood scent trails after him, watering my mouth, as I follow behind.
The hallway ends at a door, which Lucian opens before flipping a switch on the wall beside him. Lights flicker on, illuminating what reminds me of an airplane hangar, as enormous as the room is, with high ceilings and massive shelves storing two wrapped boats. On the open floor of the place are rows of vehicles, maybe two dozen. Luxury, compact, sport. Various colors and sizes, makes and models.
“Oh, my God,” is all I can muster, as I scan the room.
“I like cars.” He takes the lead once again, toward a sleek, black contraption that looks like something Batman would drive. Specks of light from above dot the polished black exterior like stars across the night sky--fitting for Lucian.
“Do you, um … have a costume hidden somewhere? Like, only pull it out when the signal goes up? What even is this car?”
“A Bugatti Chiron. One of the fastest, most powerful cars in the world.” He opens my door on the black leather duet of seats and shiny chrome interior.
The only two-seater I’ve ever been in belonged to Griff, one of the local fishermen who gave me a ride home from the library, when Aunt Midge got tied up at The Shoal one night. He’d removed his entire backseat to fit all his gear, because he couldn’t afford a truck.
I’m almost afraid to sit down in this thing, but I slide into the seat. Like sitting in a cockpit, the leather practically hugs me, and it smells as if it’s never been driven in its life.
Lucian falls into the seat beside me, his eyes immediately darting to my exposed thighs. The only reason I opted for the airy dress, one of a few that Amy left at the Manor, is that it’s supposed to get up to eighty-seven degrees today, and I can’t bring myself to risk sweaty thighs and pit-stains on my first official outing with the guy. The dress is cool and lightweight, and I’m only going to The Shoal. It’s not like any of the regulars there will even notice, and if they do, Aunt Midge will surely bop them upside the head.
His gaze lingers for a moment, the two of us sitting in silence, until he shakes his head. “Sticking toothpicks in my eyeballs would be less tortuous than trying to keep my hands off you in that dress,” he says, firing up the vehicle, the sound of its powerful engine echoing in the garage.
I turn away to hide my smile, pressing my knees together at the warmth he’s stoked between my thighs.
A wall ahead lifts,