Wanted(80)

“Oh.” My breath was a gasp, the word forced out even as he slid his finger inside me. “Oh, well, um, okay.”

He chuckled. “Just relax, sweetheart. We’re close.”

“Yes,” I said, because he was right. I was close, so damn close, but he was keeping me on the edge, slipping his finger in and out, making me wetter and wetter, playing and teasing and trailing a soft fingertip all over my sex, between my legs, on the soft skin between my cunt and my thighs. But though his touch fired my senses and made me crave more, it was more that he denied me.

He was deliberately avoiding my clit, and I had no way of complaining. I couldn’t say a word—I couldn’t even shift my hips and writhe in silent demand—unless I wanted to advertise what was going on to the driver. And, yeah, he might already be clued in, but since I was blindfolded I was happy to live in the fantasy that he was completely oblivious.

Which meant I had to sit there, perfectly still, as Evan’s fingertips played me as skillfully as an instrument. As my body warmed. As every inch of my skin became so sensitive that every tiny hair seemed to send sparks shooting through me.

By the time the taxi finally pulled up in front of our mystery destination, I was taut and ready and totally primed.

I didn’t know where we were going, but I really hoped that getting naked was next on the agenda.

“I don’t think he bought your excuse about the cold,” I said, as I stood blindfolded on what I assumed was a sidewalk. “It’s in the seventies this morning and he didn’t even have the AC on.”

Evan’s arm held on to my elbow as he guided me forward. “You may be right. But I wanted what I wanted, and that was you.”

“Hmm,” I said, adding a hint of censure to my tone.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

I frowned. “I take the Fifth.”

He burst out laughing. “Fair enough. But I know the truth. You told me, remember? You’re a woman who likes to let go. Who likes the rush. Who needs it.”

I wanted desperately to peel the blindfold off and look at him. “I do,” I said. “But it also scares me.”

“That was the point, Lina. You were with me. You can do anything with me.” He leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. “Anything. Because I will always be there. I will always catch you if you fall.”

I didn’t know what to say. He’d managed to twist the moment around completely. From a casual sexual encounter in a taxi, to a moment of pure intimacy.

“Evan,” I said, turning blindly toward him and finding his face. I pulled him toward me for a kiss, deep and long and sweet.

When I pulled back, he gently stroked my cheek. “What was that for?”

“Wherever you’re taking me, whatever we’re doing, I know it’s going to be amazing. And just in case you have me so distracted later I forget to say it, I wanted to say thank you now.”

“You’re welcome.” He took my hand. “Are you ready to go inside?”

I nodded and let him lead the way.

“Distracted, huh?” he said as we entered a very air-conditioned room. “I can’t imagine how you think I might distract you.”

I grinned, absolutely delighted with the man, with the morning, with the whole damn world.

I knew better than to ask where we were. There was stone, not carpet, beneath my feet, and the space had an echo when we walked. It felt empty, too, and I assumed it was some sort of lobby. My assumption was confirmed when I heard the ding of an elevator. A moment later, we stepped onto one. And ascended, higher and higher and higher still.

“About that flying thing,” I said. “If you’re thinking about hang gliding off the roof of one of the sky-rises, then I think I’m going to have to exercise my veto power.”

“That’s tomorrow’s agenda,” he says. “Today’s Sunday. I figured something less active would be appropriate.”

I wanted to scream with frustration because I had absolutely no idea what he had up his sleeve, but I also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. So I stayed calm, cool, and collected. And kept my curiosity soundly buried.

Finally, the elevator slid to a smooth stop. The doors opened, and I heard a few people moving around, but not too many. I heard the clattering of dishes and—happily—I caught the scent of coffee.

“Know where we are?”

“One of the clubs? A breakfast buffet?” Uncle Jahn belonged to the Metropolitan Club and had taken me and Flynn there for drinks and appetizers to celebrate Flynn’s first trip as a flight attendant.

“Not a bad guess,” he said. “But no.”