He nodded. He understood, of course, but he hated that once their five days were over, she'd be so far away.
Beside him, she closed her eyes. "Can I put my foot on the dash?"
He chuckled, liking the image of a woman in such an elegant outfit sitting like that. "Go ahead," he said, then about drove off the road when he glanced over and saw how stunningly sensual she looked with her right foot up and that thin skirt draped over her uplifted leg, providing just a bit of modesty and hiding the La Perla panties from his view.
He knew they were there, though, and he clenched the steering wheel tighter and wished that they were heading to his studio and not a party.
Then again . . .
"Take off the panties," he said.
She turned to him, opening her eyes as an impudent smile played at her lips. "Déjà vu, Mr. Segel?"
"Something like that. But I believe you were very clear that you wanted me to be in charge. Panties," he repeated. "I want them in my pocket during the party. Not under that skirt."
"Oh." She licked her lips. "I kind of like that. But we can't do it."
"Do you want to tell me why?"
"Because we don't have time to backtrack to my condo. I left the panties on my bed."
She spoke casually, but her words cut a hot path through him, right down to his cock, and he had to fight the very real desire not to pull over and drag her into the back. It was a hell of a big vehicle, after all, and the seats did fold down.
That, however, was impractical. Better to suffer in delicious silence.
But he didn't intend to suffer alone.
He leaned over and turned the air conditioner on full blast.
"Hey!"
She started to pull her foot down.
"Oh, no," he said. "You don't get to move."
"But it's blowing right-oh."
He saw her stiffen and bite her lower lip.
"Chilly?"
"You, sir, have a devious streak."
"I don't disagree."
He glanced over and saw the outline of her now-tight nipples against the form-fitting top.
His fingers itched to tug the skirt down. To slide his hand over her thigh, then tease her pussy. He knew she'd be wet. Hot and wet despite the cool air. She was waxed, and his fingers would slide over her, teasing her senseless until she closed her eyes and fucked his hand.
He'd touched her so many times, felt her explode against him over and over.
And yet it was never enough. He wanted this touch. This moment.
But he couldn't have it. Because the reality was that they were in traffic, and he really had no interest in making the news by causing a twelve-car pile-up.
So he kept his hands to himself, silently urging the car to eat up the miles, and told her to touch herself.
She turned slowly to face him, her brow pulled down into a frown. "Do I have to?"
"I thought that was our deal."
"It is. And I will if that's really what you want. It's just that . . . well, it's just that I'd rather wait until we get to the party. And then have you touch me."
He made it to his grandmother's mansion fifteen minutes faster than the navigation system had estimated. He also bypassed the main gate, ignoring the hired valets, and headed around back to park at the service entrance. They'd get in faster. Would probably bump into fewer people. And he could get her upstairs to the room that he'd claimed as a child, lay her back, and fuck her senseless.
That was the plan. The execution was harder than he'd anticipated because it seemed that half the party was mingling in the garden area behind the house, and if they went that way, they'd be waylaid for sure.
Well, hell.
He took her hand. "We're taking another way in."
He thought she'd protest. Say something about how they were being silly, acting like horny teens. But all she did was nod and whisper, "Just hurry, okay?"
Hell yes, he was going to hurry.
They eased around the side of the garage, following the path used primarily by the landscape crew. It snaked around to the back of the house and the huge French doors that opened off of his grandmother's private study, which was never open during parties.
"This way," he said, leading her down the very route he used to take when he snuck out of the house as a teen. He'd never officially lived in the mansion, but he'd stayed so often with his grandmother that he'd been given his own room.
The French doors were locked, of course, but the key was hidden in a ridiculous statue of an elephant just to the left of the door. He retrieved it, opened the door, and then put the key back.
"Wow," Kelsey said, the moment they entered. The room itself wasn't lit, but it was lined with glass display cases that remained dimly illuminated at all times. The cases were filled with memorabilia from all of Anika's movies, as well as all the awards she and her father had ever won.