“Oh crap, Dorian, I gotta go,” looking at the time on my cell phone since my watch is out of commission. I also notice a text and 2 missed calls but ignore them for now and shove my cell back into my purse. My time is ending with Dorian and I’m ashamed to admit that I’m sincerely disappointed.
“Can I give you a ride home? I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble.”
I politely decline then Dorian motions towards the bar, signaling for the check. The blonde waitress reluctantly strolls over and drops the small black folder without saying a word. After Dorian stuffs a few bills into the small leather black folder we make our way outside. I notice that my car is the only one left in the empty side entrance lot of the mall.
“Maybe I should be asking you if you need a ride. Where’s your car?”
“Oh, it’s around the other side of the mall,” Dorian replies with his usual nonchalance.
Noting the extreme drop in temperature, a cold shiver crawls up my spine as we step out into the frigid night air. I pull my jacket around me, hoping to dispel the chill. “Let me drive you to it,” I say between slightly chattering teeth.
“That won’t be necessary. I can walk; it’s not that far,” he declines.
“I insist. Really. Don’t you know there’s a killer on the loose?” I say, waving him over to my Honda.
For a split second, Dorian grimaces as if the thought of a sadistic murderer physically pains him. He exhales nervously and reluctantly agrees. I’m grateful because I really didn’t want to stand out here and argue with him in the cold. Then I wonder why Dorian was so hesitant to accept my offer. Was he lying about owning a car? Or could he be embarrassed of it? I reprimand myself for being so pushy and try to plaster on a reassuring smile as we ride around the backside of the building.
“It’s right over there,” he mumbles, pointing toward a department store. He really does seem nervous and a pang of sympathy grips my chest. I can spot a shadow of a car but I can’t make out what type it is. I tell myself it wouldn’t matter anyway.
I pull up alongside the silhouette and my jaw literally drops. I can see the sleek, dark frame of a luxurious sports car twinkling under the moonlight and am instantly flooded with guilt mixed with embarrassment at my mental misstep. It’s a Mercedes-Benz SL 65 AMG, a car I recognize from one of the exclusive car shows Morgan has dragged me to, or as she calls it, ‘Sponsor Hunting’. As if his looks weren’t already so impressive, now he has to wow me with his exotic, expensive car? Mild humiliation washes over me as I take in my own 5 year old, trusty Honda Civic. Of course, he’d have a gorgeous car. It wouldn’t make sense for him to own anything otherwise.
“Nice car,” I stammer. “Black Series?” I only remember the model because it was one of my favorites, being that it is elegant and sexy without being too over the top. I try hard not to seem star-struck.
“Yeah,” he mutters with a shrug. Oh geez, is this his play at modesty? I roll my eyes in the darkness.
“So will I see you again?” my mouth asks before my head can stop me. So much for playing it cool!
Dorian’s mouth turns up on one side, the movement of his lips nearly causing me to gasp aloud. “Do you want to see me again?” he asks, his silky voice sounding even more sensual in the shroud of night.
“Yes,” I answer too quickly, growing angry with my mouth for yet another betrayal. I hold my breath in anticipation and to keep from saying anything more to humiliate myself.
“Then you shall."
Dorian leans over just an inch, his alluring azure eyes finding mine, holding my gaze. With just a dim streetlamp illuminating his face, he looks so…dangerously delicious. I want him. And the realization of how deep that hunger aches within me disturbs me. I can feel the heat radiating between my thighs, the pit of my stomach quivering in expectation. I blink rapidly, breaking our reverie and force myself to focus on something, anything, other than his beauty. Or his body. A body that I want pressed against mine, limbs and tongues twisted and tangled, our flesh contortioned into X-rated abstract art…
Ugh! What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve got to get out of his proximity.
“I better get home,” I stammer. I need to get away from him yet I don’t want him to leave. I feel like my erratic emotions are being completely ruled by my hormones.
“Yes,” he breathes.
Dorian takes another long, torturous look, causing my body to squirm one last time before he reaches for the car door handle. No, don’t go! I want to scream, but for the first time, my mouth checks in with my brain and stays shut. Dorian clicks open the door and steps out gracefully. He fishes out a key and hits a button, chirping the gorgeous car to life. After a sexy smirk in my direction, he folds his muscular frame in with precision and revs it up. Then he’s gone.