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I felt myself stiffen at his comment. Who in the hell was he to judge what I do to support myself?
“Well, my own personal international corporation never came through like yours did, Mr. Blackstone. I resorted to modeling. I like sleeping in a bed as opposed to a park bench. And heat. The winters here suck!” Even I could hear the snark in my voice.
“In my experience I’ve found many things here that suck.” He turned and gave me an expert blue-eyed stare.
How he’d said ‘suck’ got my blood tingling in a way that left no doubts about my skills in fantasy being sound. I might not get a ton of practica
l experience between the sheets, but my fantasies don’t suffer one iota from lack of use.
“Well we agree on something then.” I brought my fingers to my forehead and rubbed. The image of Ethan’s cock and the word ‘suck’ in the same little space in my brain was a little much at the moment.
“Headache?”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
We slowed for a stoplight and he looked over at me, his eyes traveling from my lap back up to my face in a slow, measured pace. “Merely a guess. No dinner, just the champagne you gulped back at the gallery, and now it’s late and your body is putting up a protest.” He lifted his eyebrow yet again. “How’d I do?”
I swallowed hard, desperately wishing for water. Bingo, Mr. Blackstone. You read me like a cheap comic book. Whoever you are, you’re good.
“I just need two aspirin and some water and I’ll be fine.”
He shook his head at me. “When did you last eat some food, Brynne?”
“So we’re back to first names again?”
He gave me a tolerant look but I could tell he was pissed.
“I had a late breakfast, okay? I’ll make something when I get home.” I looked out the window. The light must have changed because we started moving again. The only sounds were of his body shifting as he turned the corner. And it was way too sexy of a sound to keep my eyes averted for long. I chanced a peek. In profile, Ethan had a rather prominent nose but on him it didn’t matter, he was still beautiful.
Ignoring me now, acting as if I wasn’t sitting two feet from him, he efficiently drove us. Ethan seemed to know his way around London because he didn’t ask me for directions once. I could still smell him though, and the scent did things to my head. I really needed to get out of this car.
He made a rude noise and pulled into a strip mall. “Stay here; I’ll be just a minute.” His voice sounded a little edgy. A lot more than a little, actually. Everything was edgy with him. And commanding. Like he told you what to do and you didn’t dare argue.
The warmth of the car and the coziness of the leather seat felt nice underneath the thin skirt I’d worn tonight. Ethan was right about one thing, I would have died on my walk to the Tube. Here I sat in the car of a virtual stranger, who’d seen me naked, bullied me into taking a ride, and now coming out of the convenience store with a bag in his hand and a grim look on his face. This whole situation was weirder than weird.
“What did you need to get in the store—”
He shoved a bottle of water into my hand and opened a single packet of Advil. I took both without a word. He watched me gulp down the pills. The water was gone in under a minute. He set a protein bar on my knee.
“Now eat it.” His voice had that don’t-fuck-with-me tone again. “Please,” he added.
I sighed and opened the white chocolate Power Bar. The crinkle of the wrapper filled the silence in the car. I took a bite and chewed slowly. It tasted divine. I had needed what he’d brought me. Desperately.
“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling suddenly emotional, the urge to cry bubbling up fiercely. I held it down as best I could. I kept my head down too.
“My pleasure,” he said softly, “everyone needs the basics, Brynne. Food, water…a bed.”
A bed. The sexual tension was back, or maybe it never left. Ethan seemed blessed with the talent to make the most innocent word sound like hot, sweaty, mind-blowing sex you remembered for a long, long time. He sat beside me and didn’t back the car out until I’d finished the last of the protein bar.
“What’s your actual street address?” he asked.
“41 Franklin Crossing.”
Ethan took us out of the strip mall lot and headed back onto the street, bringing me closer to my flat with every revolution of the tires. I leaned into the soft leather and closed my eyes. My phone vibrated in my purse. I fished it out and saw there’d been a text from Benny.
Ben Clarkson: u home ok?
I shot back a quick ‘yup’ and closed my eyes again. I could feel my headache begin to slip away. I felt more relaxed than I’d been in hours. Exhaustion wore out I suppose, because I would have never allowed myself the indulgence of falling asleep in Ethan Blackstone’s car if I could possibly help it.
