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“Oh, you poor thing… you really need it, don't you?”
“I really do!”
His hands slide around to the back of my thighs, cupping my ass against his palms. In one smooth motion he picks me up and makes me straddle his lap. His thu
mb drums against the front of my panties, tapping out a surprising rhythm against my clit.
“Like that? Is that what you need?”
I can't answer; my breath is caught in my throat. Nimbly, he slides his thumb inside the legband of my panties and strokes my clit gently, rolling it in a gentle, tight circle. Fireworks go off inside my belly, lighting me up from inside. I bite my lip hard and grind against his fingers, letting he guide me to a swift, bursting climax that douses his fingers in my juices.
“That's it, Dahlia. Come for me,” he groans against my neck, biting me gently. I slump forward and nuzzle against his shoulder.
“Now I want to nap,” I confess.
“You can nap in the car,” he murmurs, leaning to one side on the sofa. Before I know what's happening, he's picked me up and is walking back toward the front door. I giggle and pull my arms tighter around his neck, giddy and dizzy.
“Just these two things?” he asks me. “Your purse? This overnight bag?”
“Yes,” I nod. He leans down without dropping me and picks up my bags, then hits the private elevator button with his elbow. I snuggle as close to him as possible as he grins, caring me all the way down to the parking lot and depositing me in the cushy leather front seat of his BMW.
The car purrs when he starts it up and I fasten my seatbelt, unable to suppress this goofy smile that's on my face.
“Can you carry me everywhere? Like I am some kind of fairytale Princess?”
He flips sunglasses down over his eyes and smirks, creasing his stubbled cheeks. “If that's what it takes.”
“I would be okay with that.”
The drive to Maryland is not very long, and I snuggle comfortably in the passenger seat, watching August navigate us through traffic. He clenches his jaw, silently staring at the horizon. He has a lot on his mind, I know. The logistics of creating a security plan for Kirkman at the MGM on short notice were complicated, he told me. He's distracted, intense.
I'm enthralled just watching him. His shirt is open at the collar, and his muscular chest swells in the V shape. I like to watch the way the tendons on the back of his hand flex as he grips the steering wheel, the way he scowls as he checks his mirrors, constantly looking around at all the other drivers. There is something very calming about being in the presence of someone who's on such high alert. I feel like I'm being guarded by a knight or something. I feel completely safe.
And yet…
“August? Can I tell you something?”
He nods, looking around for a moment before answering. “You can tell me anything, Dahlia,” he says, but his voice is distracted.
I draw my knees up tighter. I pick at the stitching on the leather upholstery with my fingernail.
“I think I might've done something I shouldn't have.” I say in a rush. My heart is beating really loud, and I struggle to get the words out.
No reaction. He doesn't show that he even heard me.
“I mean, I thought I should tell you,” I continue in a high sounding voice. “I mean, just to be completely upfront.”
He taps the turn signal and changes lanes, dipping his head slightly to check the rearview mirror for obstacles.
“You know, because I wanted to be completely honest with you,” I say. Still, no reaction. Nothing at all.
“August? Did you hear what I said?”
He takes a deep breath, flaring his nostrils.
“Can this wait?” he asks. “We'll be leaving on Sunday. Are you sure this cannot wait?”
I sit up taller in the seat. “Actually, I don't think this can wait. I think I need to tell you now. Just so we are on the same page. So we don't misunderstand each other.”
