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She lets out a little laugh, and I arch a brow.
I step closer to her. I need to know she got home safe. She’s spent the evening here with me—this is my responsibility.
“Cancel the Uber,” I say, and she pats me on the pec.
What the fuck?
I’m a big man. Over six foot three, four in shoes. My body is solid muscle. Not as much as when I was an active marine, but pretty goddamn close. I intimidate men, and women either melt or stutter around me.
Mia is unfazed.
“Thank you for last night, Connor. I’ve got it from here.” Then she tiptoes up and plants her lips on mine.
I’ve got it from here.Is this girl for real?
Without looking, I toss my phone on the bed and pull her body against mine. I deepen the kiss because I need one last taste of her.
But if she thinks I’m letting her walk out the door to fend for herself in Manhattan at four in the morning, she’s mistaken.
I release her as her heels drop back on the floor.
“Either let my driver take you, or I’m getting in the Uber with you.” I won’t. I’ll pay the guy the tip of his life, and he can fuck off.
Mia lets out a little sigh.
“Connor, I’ve lived in New York all my life. Trust me when I say I’m safe.”
I feel like I’m missing something.
Also, no.
I walk to my wardrobe and pull on a pair of gray sweats and a Harvard University sweatshirt. Then slip into a pair of Nikes.
When I return, Mia is gone, but she won’t go far. The elevator in this penthouse works on a metric system. Without my eyeball, she isn’t leaving. When she comes marching back into the bedroom with her arms crossed, I hide my smirk.
She’s figured it out.
“Okay, well, this is kidnapping,” she snaps.
I laugh.
“I’m trying to get you home safely, not keep you. That’s the opposite of kidnapping.” I walk to her and cup her face. She keeps her arms down by her side, and I nearly laugh again.
Mia is very sexy when she’s angry.
“Look, let me be a gentleman and make sure you get home. I don’t want Donna mad at me.”
Couldn’t give a fuck about Donna.
Mia’s eyes fly wide.
“Shit. Your dry cleaning,” she cries, beginning to pull away.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I shake my head and growl. “Leave the damn dry cleaning. It was you I wanted.”
Her phone beeps.
