I am well and truly fucked.
When Riley reaches the bottom of the stairs, I step aside without a word and head for the elevator because I don’t trust myself not to put my hands on her and lead her right back up the stairs to my bed.
I need to remember that tonight is nothing more than a lie, a performance to send a message to Sean O’Keefe.Thatis why I’m doing this.
The silence between us is thick as we ride the elevator down to the parking garage.
I sneak a glance at Riley and notice a faint blush is already staining her cheeks, but if she can feel my gaze on her, she makes no move to acknowledge it.
She fiddles nervously with the hem of her dress, which has my eyes flicking down to her thighs.
Christ, she looks incredible.
I knew tonight was going to be torture, but not this kind of torture.
The moment the door pings open, I step out first so as not to have to follow behind Riley. My cock is already semi-hard as it is, and I don’t need to see how well the thin silk of her dress clings to her ass.
“Are you not going to open my door for me?” she asks when I walk around to the driver’s door of my BMW.
“I’m not your husband yet.”
“Asshole.”
“You don’t want me to call you princess, and yet you insist on me treating you like one.”
“Seriously? Opening a car door for a woman is nothing more than basic manners, Kieran.”
Fuck, the sound of my name on her lips has me subtly adjusting my cock.
Our eyes meet across the top of the car, and it feels like my body has been hit with an electric shock.
This woman is like a flame incarnate. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s on fire, and I haven’t even touched her.
I can tell from the fierce determination on Riley’s face that the only way she’s going to get in the car is if I open the damn door for her.
Biting my tongue, I stalk around the front of the car, making a point to stand a little too close to her as I lean in and reach for the handle.
Just as I suspected, her throat bobs as she looks up at me, and I have to bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop from smirking.
I open the door without breaking eye contact, and Riley’s cheeks flush pink, the same color as her plump lips, and I feel that familiar surge of blood rushing south.
I’m walking a very thin line here by getting so close to her, but part of me is tempted to find out what happens if I dare to cross it.
“Happy now?” I murmur in her ear as she moves to climb into the car.
“Not even a little bit.”
“Brat,” I mutter under my breath as I slam the door shut.
I can’t let myself get distracted by a smart mouth and a silky dress.
Tonight, I need to focus on the plan and the war that is on the horizon. But I have a feeling that’s going to be easier said than done.
