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Ella: Have fun and let us know when you’re home!
Me: Of course.
I love those two more than my own life.
Bentley is already pulling out of the parking spot by the time I’m done, and I wave my phone at him again.
“Safety precautions taken. Does that make you feel better?” I taunt.
“Not having my suit soaked in tequila would make mefeelbetter,” he gripes.
I laugh. “I’m sure you have a dozen more hanging in your big walk-in closet.”
His icy eyes turn dark, and he mutters something under his breath that I don’t catch. Though, that doesn’t deter me. To keep the mood from plummeting away, I reach over to start helping him with his problem.
My fingers deftly work at the forest-green tie around his neck. I don’t miss the way the muscles in his neck strain or how his hands tighten around the steering wheel.
“What are you doing?” he asks with a small grumble in his voice.
I yank the tie loose. “Helping.”
I pop a few of the buttons to his white dress shirt open, and he grabs my hand. “Nothelping, Kenzie.”
Shit. The way his voice deepens while he says my name makes me press my thighs closer together. I’ve never been one to be attracted to grumpy, rich dudes, but maybe I’ve been missing out.
I move back to my seat, grinning the whole way to his house. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this. Probably not since I was twenty-one. Ugh. That was almost a decade ago. Not something I need to think about right now.
Bentley slows his Range Rover down when we enter the Providence community. I keep my phone in my hands and plan to text the exact address to my friends once I can see the house.
I’ve never had any reason to roam through this neighborhood. The mansion-sized houses, gated entries, and eight-foot-tall privacy fences remind me why.
I might not have grown up poor, but this was never the lifestyle I wanted.
Though, it would be for tonight.
Bentley pulls into a driveway, one with no privacy fence and no fancy automated gate. It’s one of the few properties that remain open like that in this whole area.
Interesting.
The house is massive just like the rest, though. It’s at least two stories—maybe three if he has a lower level that can’t be seen from the street. The exterior is covered in brick, and the windows all have white shutters around them that match the columns holding up the covered porch at the double mahogany main doors.
The half-circle driveway curves around, but Bentley goes straight ahead and pulls into the four-car garage. When he shuts the vehicle down, I send my friends the address before tucking my phone away. Hopefully I won’t need it again until I’ve been thoroughly ravished.
I open my own door and meet Bentley at the front of his car. I glance around, and I’m surprised to find an old Harley motorcycle in mid-restoration at the other end of the garage.
I nod that way. “Are you doing that yourself?”
“Did you come here to ask questions?” he counters.
I purse my lips. “I guess not.”
He leads the way into his house, and I’m greeted with walnut hardwood floors and a kitchen any cook would die for. There are two ovens, eight burners on the stove, stainless steel appliances, and sleek black countertops between the light-gray cabinets.
Bentley has already moved ahead while I gawked, so I lengthen my stride to catch up. We come out of the kitchen and into a formal dining room that doesn’t look used. It seems more like a prop in a house too big for one man.
Through the next archway, I see the front doors ahead, and on my right is a large wooden staircase. Bentley is already on the third step when he glances back at me. “Coming?”
I smirk and flick my hair back. “I hope to be soon.”
