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“The capital city. I thought that would be the perfect place to start. It’s about thirty minutes away. Down the mountain.”
“Excellent.”
Her stomach tightened, her hand shaking. And she didn’t know if it was because of the idea of being in close proximity with him in a car for that long or if it was stepping outside of this palace for the first time in several days.
The lack of reality in the situation was underlined here. By her containment. In this glittering palace of jewels it was easy to believe it was all a dream. Some kind of childhood fantasy hallucination with the very adult inclusion of a massive, muscular male.
But once they left the palace, th
e world would expand. And the fantasy that it was a dream would dissolve. Completely.
There was no limousine waiting for them. Instead, there was a sleek black car that was somehow both intensely expensive looking and understated. She didn’t know how it accomplished both of those things. But it did.
And it seemed right, somehow, because the car’s owner was not understated and could not be if he tried.
Looking at him now in his exquisitely cut dark suit, she had a feeling that he was trying.
That this was the most inconspicuous he could possibly be. But he was six and a half feet tall, arrestingly beautiful and looked like he could kill a hundred people using only his thumb. So. Blending wasn’t exactly an option for him.
He opened the door for her, and she got inside.
When he went to the driver’s seat, her tension wound up a notch.
It was even smaller than she had imagined. She had thought they might have a driver. Someone to help defuse this thing between them.
Between them. He probably felt nothing.
Why would he?
He was carved out of rock.
Well. One thing.
She thought of his response to her question yesterday. The way that his lips had curved up into a smile.
One thing.
The idea of this rock as a sexual being just about made her combust. She did not need those thoughts. No, she did not.
He was not the kind of man for her. Even in fantasy. She needed a sexual fantasy with training wheels. An accountant, maybe. Soft. One who wore pleated-front khakis and emanated concern. A nice man named Stephen.
The kind of man that would bring her cinnamon rolls in bed.
After... Making tender love to her.
Nothing about that appealed.
She had no idea why her sexuality was being so specific. She had never intended to make it to twenty-six a virgin.
And she had certainly never intended for this man to awaken her desire.
No. It was just exacerbated by the fact that this felt like a dream. That was all. She wasn’t connected to reality. And she was... Stockholm syndrome. That was it. She was suffering from sexual Stockholm syndrome.
When the car started moving, she unrolled the window and stuck her head out of it. Breathed in the crystal mountain air and hoped that it would inject her with some sense.
It didn’t.
It did nothing to alleviate the bigness of his presence in the tiny vehicle.
