When she stumbles, I scoop her into my arms before doubling the length of my strides.
I’m not surprised when our arrival at my car is done without scrutiny. Even if I hadn’t lost the tail by driving thirty over the designated signage, the surveillance crew tailing me would have grown bored hours ago.
When I have excess energy to burn, I don’t stop until exhaustion forces me to.
As I place Isabelle into the passenger seat of my new sports car, my nostrils flare to suck in her erotic scent. She is heating up everywhere, and the knowledge on top of the realization that we are alone has my qualm faltering.
“Stop looking at me like that, Isabelle,” I demand when her scent augments from me strapping her into her seat. “Or I’ll take you on the hood of my car.”
Pre-cum leaks into my gym shorts when she whispers, “Please.”
I’m glad she’s finally past the stage of denying her body’s every want and need, but that doesn’t excuse her behavior this morning. “As tempting as that offer is, you’ve been a bad girl, Isabelle, so your punishment is only suitable for behind closed doors.”
After watching the heat creeping from her neck to her cheeks, I jog to the trunk to slip on a shirt and remove my gloves before I slip into the driver’s seat.
My cock throbs when the rumble of the motor has Isabelle’s scent invading every morsel of air in my car. It’s stronger than the heated leather seats and far too rich for the pine tree air freshener dangling off the rearview mirror to overwhelm.
I rev the engine a handful of times before skidding out of the gravel parking lot at the front of the warehouse. With my speed excessive, we make it onto the freeway in an impressive ninety seconds.
Regretfully, it is ninety seconds too long when it comes to my insufferable impatience to make Isabelle mine.
Needing my hands on Isabelle in some way, I flatten my palm high on her bare thigh. She’s wearing an office skirt with easy access, and the low design of my sports car means inches upon inches of her ravishing skin is on display.
As I take the off-ramp, Isabelle adjusts her position so the warmth of her damp panties grazes the tip of my pinkie finger. She’s desperate for me to touch her, and the awareness makes me the most arrogant I’ve ever been. “Not yet,” I mutter before returning my hand to its original position.
Perhaps she will recall how frustrated she feels right now the next time she considers going against me. I don’t lose in general, but when it comes to her, there are no odds recorded. I participate to win, or I don’t participate at all.
When Isabelle shifts her focus to the stream of cars whizzing past her window, I flick mine to the rearview mirror. I’m being tailed again, and when Isabelle groans about the blue van popping up on her side mirror, I begin to wonder if her astuteness is as blinded by me as mine is of her.
Does she know I’m being watched? Or is she disappointed I’m denying her my touch she so desperately craves?
I test the theory by taking a left on Tracter instead of right before ramping up the teasing swivels of my pinkie on her bare thigh. The change-up directs my car toward my penthouse apartment instead of the private abode I had planned for us to visit, but it also proves where Isabelle’s disappointment stems. She’s dying for me to touch her, and the knowledge has me frantic to lose the van following my weave through traffic.
They give it their best shot to keep up with me, but within minutes, they’re lost in the sea of traffic that forever clogs the streets of Ravenshoe.
Although I’m smirking about my undogged determination when I glide my car into the underground garage of my building twenty minutes later, I am also on edge. It was imprudent of me to steer my car straight for home. It’s my private sanctuary, the one place I can be myself. The discretion it gives me from my empire is why Hugo hasn’t even been invited there, and he’s been an imperative member of my team for years.
The tenseness keeping my blood hot soothes when I jog around my car to assist Isabelle out. The way she peers up at me discloses she is not a member of my team, so inviting her into my extremely private personal life without an interrogation makes sense.
If the air weren’t hissing with a ton of sexual energy, I’d return her to her seat right now. Since it is, I interlock our fingers then walk her to the elevator. Our fire-sparking connection proves without a doubt that we would never make it the twenty miles to my home. It’s on the outskirts of Ravenshoe in an exclusive neighborhood only those closest to me are permitted to live, and I’m mere seconds from tearing Isabelle’s clothes off and ravishing her. My penthouse isn’t ideal, but it has everything I need to ensure Isabelle will never use my jealous neuroses against me again.
I just need to get her to the top floor before commencing my lesson, or indecent exposure will be the first accurate claim on my ‘supposed’ criminal record.
When we enter the elevator, the tension depriving the air of oxygen becomes too much for Isabelle to bear. She fiddles relentlessly, and the smell I’m struggling to ignore has me foaming at the mouth. I attempt to calm her nervous fidgeting by curling my hand over hers. My efforts are pointless. My briefest touch doubles the thrumming of the vein in her neck, and her erotic scent catapults to a previously unreached altitude.
After a quick glance at the security camera dome in the corner of the elevator to ensure it is switched off, I throw caution to the wind.
Well, I would have if the elevator didn’t stop at the lobby.
The facilities in this building are designed to cater to the penthouse owners. When their thumbprint is registered by the system Hunter designed, the elevator is directed straight to their floor. Since I only visit this apartment for one reason, my wish for privacy doesn’t override the privileges other penthouse owners have, meaning I have to ride with the regular folk.
Usually, that wouldn’t bother me. I know where I came from, and I am acutely aware of the workload required to purchase a shoebox apartment in Ravenshoe, much less an off-the-print one-of-a-kind masterpiece, but today is different. The woman riding with us has an air of arrogance associated with her. She’s a regular complainer. On more than a handful of occasions, she has made the female staff at the front desk upset, and my disdain grows when she snootily disregards Isabelle’s compliment of the dog she swears isn’t responsible for the stain in the corner of the lobby, even with multiple security personnel saying differently.
In true Isabelle fashion, instead of getting upset when Gladys huffs at her before turning her nose up at her, she giggles about her absurdity. Her unpretentiousness has me switching tactics immediately. Instead of advising Gladys to get off at the next floor, I give her the show she’s so desperately striving to avoid.
In a quick pluck, spin, and devour motion, I pin Isabelle to the back wall of the elevator then delve my tongue into her mouth. I kiss her how I’ve been dying to kiss her the past two weeks. Then I kiss her some more just for the hell of it.
Unlike her exchange with Brandon and Ryan, Isabelle doesn’t hesitate when I kiss her. She melts into my embrace before returning my kiss with as much fervor as I’m instilling.
