Reaching the elevator, he punches the up button, and I stare down at my feet. Standing next to him makes me wish I were in heels like he suggested because I do feel so short, so unattractive in these flats. But I'd never admit that to him.
"Those are some ugly ass shoes. You should just throw them away," he says, almost as if reading my mind.
"Screw you." I don't look up. I don't even move. There's no way I can look at Theo Katawhateverhisnameis again. Not right now. I'm tired of what my body does when I do. It's not supposed to act this way for anyone other than Charlie. And it's pissing me off. I'm ready to get this meeting done, to hear what he has to say, and to be done. I'm already re-thinking my decision to ride with him because that means after I hear what he has to say I have to ride back with him to get my car. Shit. "I think I'll drive."
"What?"
"I am rethinking my decision. It just doesn't make sense for you to have to bring me back here to get my car when we're done with dinner because it's just dinner, right?" I can't help but looking up at him now as I arch my brow, emphasizing the last word. I need to see what his eyes say as I ask that question, see if I can read him even though I know nothing about him, and he probably is a serial liar with a great poker face.
His eyes narrow, and he glances away. A sure sign of dishonesty. Fuck. "Just ride with me. I'm not going to hurt you. If I'm going to trust you with my money, it only seems fair you'd trust me enough to allow me to drive you to dinner."
The elevator dings and the doors open. He holds his arm out and shrugs. He looks like a sad boy who's lost his puppy. Dammit. He's good at whatever he's doing. "Jules. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. And it's no big deal to bring you back to your car. The restaurant isn't that far away. We could walk if it wasn't cold. Aren't you cold?"
Shaking my head, I refuse to admit it. I don't even think I noticed it until he mentioned it. Besides, between the adrenaline and the way he's made me feel, the only shivers I've experienced have been self-induced. A loud alarm starts coming from inside. He looks up. "It's mad at us for keeping it open too long." He grabs my hand. "Let's go." He pulls me in as the doors seemingly angrily close behind us, causing me to nearly fall into his chest. As he reaches around me to press the button for his floor, his body further presses against mine. His mouth brushes my ear, his warm breath sending shivers over the cool skin of my neck.
Instead of righting himself, he pushes me into the wall. "We're going to take my car, go to dinner, and I'm going to bring you back." His lips dip down and they're so close. I can barely breathe because I'm afraid if I do, mine will brush his. "And not because I'm kidnapping you or because I'm some crazy ass stalker..." He closes his eyes and runs his tongue over his teeth. "But because I know based on the way your body responds every time I get close to you that you want to."
"You're a cocky son of a bitch."
He smirks. "You have no fucking idea, but I'd love to show you one day just how much."
The elevator comes to a halt. "So what's it going to be? Are you coming with me or going back down?" He pushes the button to keep the doors open once they retract. My heart is racing and it's like someone turned all my words into alphabet soup. His amber eyes, that grin, that damn suit, none of it is helping me. "I'm giving you three seconds to choose, Jules, then I'm choosing for you. Again. But it's not going to be kidnapping because I'm technically giving you a choice. Time to make a decision." He kind of nods. "Three." His voice is low and husky. "Two." He cocks his head this time. Where. Are. My. Words? He releases the button in exchange for my hand and pulls me behind him. "One." Furthermore, why do I find that I like his bossiness? That he's taking charge and making decisions for me? Am I not answering on purpose? What is this? Do I want him to take me? This is crazy. I could have gotten away how many times?
He glances back over his shoulder. "My car's right up here." I glance down at my hand. It's in his. He's not let it go. I've not pulled it away. What. The. Actual. Fuck? "Why are you shy all of the sudden?" There aren't many cars on this deck, not many options for me to guess which is his. None of these are what I expected. And we just passed all but one. A shiny, black hot rod muscle car. I'm not sure of the year. He no longer looks like a boy who lost his puppy. He looks like he just found it. He pulls his keys from his pocket, then unlocks the door and opens it for me. That'd be sweet if this were some kind of a date.
"That's not necessary. For you to open the door for me."
He chuckles. "She speaks." He motions for me to climb in, but before I do, I notice the five-point harness attached to the seat.
"What's this?" I ask, pointing to it.
"A seat belt."
"Why's it like this?"
He continues to kind of laugh. At me. He crosses his legs and leans against the car. "Typically, they're used for safety. Although, I suppose I could come up with some other kinky uses for this particular kind." His eyes travel down to the juncture of my thighs, and I squeeze them closed, trying to dull the throbbing that should not be growing there, but inevitably is. "But if you want to know why I have five-point harnesses, it's because I race this car." He smirks. "Climb in."
"Is this why you wanted me to really ride with you?"
"So I could hike that red dress up and help you fasten it?" He licks his lips and glances away. Not that I know his looks yet, but I'm guessing this one is the one he has when he's up to no good. He grabs his chest and hunches over. "I'm so wounded by your initial assessment of me. Just wait until dinner's over. You're going to realize just how wrong you are about me. You may even be begging me to fasten that seat belt for you." He straightens himself, taking a step closer. "But right now, you're going to do it all by yourself, agapemèni."
She crosses her arms and glances back before raising her chin. "Why do you keep calling me that agawhatever word?" she asks as she climbs in my passenger seat. When her feet are in, I stand over her and watch as she tries to delicately hike that pretty red dress up, loops her arms in the straps behind her, and tries to modestly buckle the five-point harness without exposing herself. A low growl unintentionally escapes.
"Sweetheart," I mumble as I slam the door, hoping to drown out my voice, the need and yearning for a little distance to situate my cock. Now's not the time to lose focus. But then again, if I'm serious with myself, I'd admit I've not been able to focus since I saw that picture of her.
She leans over and unlocks my door. "Thanks." I climb in and put the key in, igniting the rumbling engine.
"I didn't hear what you said the word meant."
I glance over at her and shrug as I press on the brake and give it some gas. Finally, I release the parking brake and push the gear shift in reverse. Kicking the clutch in, then releasing it, I extend my arm over the back of her seat, my hand brushing her shoulder, as I pull out of the parking spot. Even though that's the same red dress she had on in the video, she's wearing a stupid little white sweater over it today, so I don't get to touch her skin. "It's Greek for sweetheart."
She slides away from me. "I. Am. Not. Your. Sweetheart."
"Ha. It's just a saying. Like the Brits call everyone 'love'." Except she is a fucking spitfire sweetheart. And something about that turns me on so damn much. "It can mean nothing if you want it to." Pressing the clutch again, I put the car in first, but let us roll back a little before I give it any gas. "Or it can mean everything. It's too soon, though, so maybe after dinner you'll change your mind." I give her a lazy smile. I could so get used to her being my girl, being in that seat.
Except, you don't even know if you can trust her stupid ass.
"No, Theo. This dinner is about you investing your money with Hawke & Hemingway. That's it. Other than that, you can go fuck yourself." Blowing a breath out, I glance in the rearview mirror and realize we're still rolling backward. Kicking the clutch into while feeding the gas, the wheels catch, and our bodies are pressed into the seat as we speed through the parking garage. She grabs the side of the door. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Driving."
"Like a fucking maniac."
Turning the steering wheel quickly, I cut the corner, the tail end whipping around, fishtailing until it's time to do it again on the next level. "You're going to get us killed. She glances over her shoulder. "Is there someone following us?"
I chuckle as I focus on keeping us safe, staying in the middle of the parking garage, watching for other vehicles on the sides and trying to enjoy the moment without her ruining it.
"Theo!"
When we're to the ground floor, I apply the brakes, and we exit, as if nothing had just happened. Except we're both panting. The windows are fogging from our breaths. Damn. That's not the way I'd like to steam up my car with her, but it'll do. I love hearing her heaving. I glance over and savor the way her breasts are rising and falling.