Page 263 of Rush

“Hi,” I murmur.

Riley looks between the both of us, her face riddled with all the cheeky things she wants to say.

I notice Broderick from the corner of my eye raking his gaze over my outfit. Eyes dropping to the thigh-high socks anyway. His chest rumbles with a suppressed chuckle.

A smirk curls up at my lips. Hedidsay dress slutty.

“Elena, you look…stunning.”

“You don’t clean up too bad yourself, Mr. Schwartz—shall we go?”

“These are for you,” he says handing me the bouquet. “And some sweets for my sweet.”

“—Oh I’m definitely skimming those for the best friend tax,” Riley quips.

“Thank you,” I say to Broderick, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Aww you guys are so sweet, so have her back at midnight or else she’ll turn into a pumpkin—if you excuse me, I’ll pop these in some water.” Riley grabs the flowers and candy from me.

“Ready?” Broderick asks.

“Sure one sec,” I say opening the coat closet to fetch my boots.

“Let me help you with those,” he says, taking them from me, he drops to his knee the other propped up. He pats the top of his thigh. “Foot, please.”

“Broderick.”

“Come on.” He taps it again.

I do as I’m told, placing my foot on his knee. He grabs hold of it slipping the boot on, before sliding the zipper up the length of my leg slowly, his eyes watching the motion.

The wetness pools, that simple act is so fucking hot.

When he gets to the top, he skims the exposed skin between my socks and skirt. He hums a low sound of appreciation. He does the exact same thing with the other leg.

He looks incredible like this.

And worse—he smells even better—his cologne is earthy and sultry.

We walk hand in hand, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. He stops at the complex door, and I say a silent prayer, hoping paparazzi aren’t waiting.

“Hey, wait here, I’ll check the coast is clear,” he says.

“Thank you.”

It touches me that I don’t even have to ask, he just knows.

He’s back a moment later. “All good.” Taking my hand again.

I look for his usual SUV but instead he leads us to something sleeker—sexier. Matte black, tricked out with all the bells and whistles. He opens the passenger door, helping me in.

He shuts the door, slow and smug.

Once he climbs in, the car fills with his cologne. The car roars to life, a deep purring from the engine, muffles the sound of my heart thudding against my ribs, before he pulls away from the curb with one hand on the wheel.

“Alright, DJ what have you got for us tonight?”

“Does this thing have a CD player?” I ask