“Kindly refrain from thinking of me or my panties.”
His lips pull back in a wicked grin. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m already thinking of you without them.”
I feel my face go bright red as I turn away from him and look out the tinted, bomb-proof window of the car. He chuckles behind me, and I scowl, hoping the false annoyance forces the other thoughts of him from my head as the city of D.C. rushes past.
We have “an agenda” today; today being one of those days where I can’t sulk around the White House and I actually have to play my First Daughter role. We’re on a media tour circuit today, something to do with my mother’s new clean energy initiative, which is why I find myself in the back of the the Escalade with the divider up, alone with Hunter Ryan.
And everything Jess said, everything she joked, or insinuated about me being pent up and needing to “get on her track” or whatever, is playing over and over again in my head as I sit there trying to be pissy at Hunter.
I want to ignore him. I want to ignore the thoughts of the other day in the dark of that hallway, with the heat of him so close, bringing back every dirty, wicked memory of that night. I want to pretend I’ve put that night out of my head; that I’ve come to an agreement in my head about that being a one-time mistake. I’m telling myself that it was all a mistake; that it was wrong. And that it’s still wrong for me to keep thinking of his hands, or his mouth, or, God, his cock. But I can’t stop.
If it’s so wrong, why do I keep thinking about it until I’m squirming in my seat and biting my lip at the way the memories of him tug at something primal inside of me?
And why is it when I turn and see him looking at me — looking at me like that — that all I want to do is throw every notion and sense I have right out the window? Why is it that him looking at me like that, in that scandalous, dirty, hungry way, makes me want to pull up this formal skirt and let him have me right there, just like that look on his face says he wants to.
Just like I want him to.
He cocks an eyebrow at me as he grins. “What?”
I quickly look away, “Nothing.”
“Yeah, right.” He grins at me.
Goddamnit, how does he do that? How does he always know?
“You wear it on your face.”
I dart my eyes back to his. “Excuse me?”
Hunter moves towards me across the bench seat of the SUV, and I take a sharp breath as I scoot back against my door, but he’s right there, right in front of me.
“When you’re thinking something dirty,” he says in a dark tone. “You wear it on your face.”
“I was not.”
“Liar. Your cheeks get all pink and you bite your lip in a way that I’ve gotta say, is much more tempting than maybe you want it to be.”
My pulse skips and I feel a breath catch in my throat at the directness of him; at the way he just cuts through the B.S. and makes me feel.
“So what were you thinking about.”
“I told you, nothing.”
“And I told you, liar. C’mon, tell me.”
I’m still chewing on my lip as I quickly dart my eyes towards the divider between us and the driver.
Hunter grins, “Nope, just me listening.”
I shrug, like it’s nothing. “Doesn’t matter, I’m still not going to tell you.”
His grin cracks across his tanned jaw. “So you were thinking something naughty.”
Ugh, damn him.
“No, I mean — I — ”
And suddenly he’s moving right against me, his arm sliding around the black leather headrest behind me, his other arm pressing against the window next to me. My breath catches as he leans in close, his lips inches from my own, his eyes searing right into mine.
And I want him. I want him like I wanted the masked stranger, before we knew who we were. I want to give in to him right here. I want to kiss those lips, feel those big, masculine hands on my body, and feel him take me — dominant and demanding — like he did before.
“You were thinking something dirty, princess, and I’m willing to bet if I reached up under this skirt right now—” I gasp as I feel his hand on my knee, and when he slides it higher, his fingers just sliding under the hem of my skirt, I let out a small whimper.
“I’m betting I’d find you soaking wet for me, wouldn’t I,” he growls into my ear, and it takes everything I have to stifle the moan that threatens to tumble from my lips.
“Mm-mm, nope,” I whisper out, quickly shaking my head.