“Gov’nor,” George says with a decisive nod as Mimi slides inside. “Looks like someone got you a good one,” he says, tapping his jaw.
“You should see the other guy.” Mimi ducks in the seat, her flushed expression appearing at the other door. “The man washuge,and Whit—”
“Narrowly avoided extensive dental work.”
“You look like you came out on the right side of it,” he says, moving around the car with the kind of quick march that reveals his military history. He doesn’t bother opening my door. It took months for me to persuade him my arms aren’t ornaments.
“My hero,” Mimi whispers as I climb in next to her.
“It might easily have worked out very differently.”
“Yeah, but it didn’t.”
“He definitely had ’roid rage,” I murmur, gingerly touching my jaw. I feel very far from a hero or a good man right now.
“Road rage?” she asks, confused.
“’Roids,” I qualify, sliding her a look. “He looked the type to be a steroid abuser. If you were looking to take someone home, better to look for a man who doesn’t walk around like he has a rolled carpet shoved under each arm.”
“Oh my God, he did look like that, right?” She gives a ridiculously adorable giggle, deliberately refusing to take the bait. I decide to be a little blunter.
“He wouldn’t have been able to reach his dick, never mind fuck you with it.”
And then sledgehammer blunt.
And because it’s just that kind of moment, George climbs into the driver’s seat in time to hear my less-than-eloquent summing up of the situation. His wide eyes meet my unhappy ones in the rearview mirror, though he glances quickly away. A second later, the Bentley starts with a throaty purr.
Fuck this—why am I’m feeling uncomfortable? George is a hardened East Londoner, so I bet he hears worse language on a daily basis. Shit, I bet his five-year-old grandson has said worse at the breakfast table.Maybe not about steroid abuse.
While George might not be embarrassed, when I turn to Mimi, her jaw seems to have unhinged. Which is weird, because that’s exactly how she makes me feel. Fucking deranged with lust and the need to shake some sense into her. I don’t know whether I’m on my arse or my elbow with her. I don’t know whether I want to fuck her or spank her.
Probably all of the above.
Agog, that’s the word to describe her reaction. Good. The woman needs shocking, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel satisfied that I’d managed it.For once. It’s like the return of my equilibrium, the sense of how things should be as I lean over the center console and press my forefinger under her chin.
“Close your mouth.” I lean closer still. My next words are a sultry purr at her ear. “Unless you want me to put something in it.”
She swallows, and her gaze turns inward, stunned or imagining just that. Again, both work for me. I shift in my seat in an attempt to discreetly adjust my now tight pants when George’s voice plucks at my attention.
“Where to?” His tone might be casual, but it looks like someone has shaved off his eyebrows and painted them just below his hairline. I never realized before, but it seems George has the hearing of an elephant.
I open my mouth to reply, still conflicted and unsure if I’m going to take her home or to my—
“We’re going to Knightsbridge,” Mimi answers clearly and without hesitation.
15
WHIT
The car issilent but for the swish of tires against the road, and we’ve barely spoken since Mimi’s direction. Why did El have to choose a club so far away from my place? I’m pretty sure I’ll combust before we get there.
“Whit?” I no sooner turn my head than words tumble from her mouth like water over rocks. “I’ve never had sex in a car before.”
I almost groan. Combust? I’m pretty sure I’m about tobusta nut. I’m not in the habit of denying myself but having Mimi so close to me, day in and day out, has been torture. I wake in the morning to the phantom feel of her riding my fingertips, then spend my days trying not to stare at her arse while mentally undressing her. It’s been torture—a pure, ball-aching torture that I’ve tried hard to ignore. I know I said I wouldn’t, and I know it’s wrong, and if I was Connor, I’d be rattling more than chains at the bottom of my bed, but fuck it all to hell, how can I not want her when she’s just so fucking adorable.
Full of truth and enthusiasm.
I’ve never known anyone like her. Never wanted anyone like I want her. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up reciting the periodic table in my head. That or embarrassing myself.
