I’m relieved at the simplicity of pizza. “No fancy menu. No wine list. I’m sold.”
“Then pizza it is,” he agrees, and unlocks the door.
Once I’m folded into the soft leather of the passenger’s seat of the car, Chris surprises me by squatting down beside me. His hand settles on top of my leg. “The belt can be tricky sometimes.” He leans over me to pull it across me, his body intimately brushing mine, before he latches me into place. We stare at each other, the shadows dancing across our features. “We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
No, but I think he will hurt me and I remember him warning me away from him. I think he believes he will hurt me, too, but there is a current between us, an understanding of a line we’ve crossed, of it being too late to turn back.
His fingers brush my cheek as he pushes to his feet, and shuts me inside the car, the darkness consuming me. I lean back into the plush leather, willing my head and stomach not to ruin this night.
Chris slides into the car beside me and I glance at his profile and I wonder what he thinks of me and my wine fest. “This isn’t like me. I never overindulge.”
“Never say never, baby,” Chris replies and then turns the key, bringing the soft purr of an expensive engine to life.
I absorb those words, staring out of the window without really looking. Rebecca had done things she’d sworn she’d never do for her ‘Master’. I wonder if I could talk to her now, would she agree with Chris? Would she say never say never?
Chapter Fourteen
Chris maneuvers the 911 into the drive of a fancy high-rise building not more than four blocks from the gallery. Before I can question the fancy location being home to a ‘pizza joint’ as he’d called it, a valet is already opening my door.
“I’ll come around to get you,” Chris says with a touch on my arm. He doesn’t wait for a reply, climbing out of the vehicle and disappearing from full view.
I am both charmed and embarrassed at the prospect he believes the extra wine has made me a helpless lush. Worse, it wouldn’t be an assumption completely without merit and this night is exactly why I never let myself lose control. It always backfires.
I unsnap the seat belt about the same moment Chris appears at my door. Holding my skirt down, I slide my legs to the ground, all too aware of his scorching gaze on my legs.
His hand appears in front of me, and I hold my breath, preparing for the impact of his touch, as I press my palm to his. He pulls me to my feet, onto the sidewalk beneath an awning, his hand settling possessively on my hip. The rich sensation of desire spreads through my limbs. I have never in my life reacted to a man this intensely.
Behind me, I hear the car door shut, and the engine rev, before the 911 pulls away. “This doesn’t look like a place that serves pizza,” I comment but I am not looking at the building. It is Chris who has my full attention.
“Two blocks down,” he explains. “We can walk there if you want or we can go upstairs to my apartment.”
Chris lives here, at least when he’s in the States. The implications of our location are clear.
His long fingers curl around my neck, under my hair, and he lowers his mouth to my ear. “Be warned, Sara. I’m no saint. If I take you upstairs, I’m going to strip you naked and fuck you the way I’ve wanted to since the moment we first met.”
The shockingly bold words ripple through me and I am instantly aroused, squeezing my thighs together. He has wanted to fuck me since we first met. I want him to fuck me. I want to fuck him. Yes. Fuck. I want to give myself permission to forget good, proper behavior and fuck and be fucked. Wild, hot, uncontrollable passion, with no worries during and regrets in the aftermath. I’ve never let myself feel those things. When in my life have I ever experienced such a thing? When has any man ever made me think I could?
I press against his chest and lean back, my eyes seeking his. “If you’re trying to scare me off, it’s not working.”
“Not yet,” he says, dark certainty to his tone, to the lines etched in his handsome face. It is as if this is simply a seed already planted that cannot be stopped.
“Not at all,” I counter.
He doesn’t immediately respond, and his expression is a mask of hard lines, his jaw set, tense. Slowly, his fingers slide from my neck to caress a path down my arm until his fingers lace intimately with mine. “Never say never, Sara,” he murmurs and starts walking, pulling me with him.
Anticipation sizzles through me, as we walk toward the automatic doors to be greeted by a man in a dark suit with an earpiece and buzz-cut.
“Evening, Mr. Merit,” he says, and glances at me. “Evening, Miss.”