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Roman. It suited him.
She realized something, standing there with her hand in his. “You knew my name.”
He lifted a brow.
“When you called out to me a few minutes ago. You already knew my name.”
He smiled and used his free hand to tap at his chest. “It’s on your name tag, in the coffee shop.”
Right. The name tag.
“Well,” she said, suddenly anxious to pull her hand away, to slow down whatever train seemed to be barreling toward her with this man at the controls, “I guess we’re not strangers anymore.”
He held her in his steely gaze. “I’m very happy to hear that.”
She pulled her hand away and turned her attention to the Jag. “Is that your car?”
“It is.” He gestured to the waiting car. “After you.”
She started toward it, then stopped in front to take a picture of the license plate. She sent it to her sister with a text saying she got a ride, then heard the man named Roman laugh behind her.
“Did you just take a picture of my license plate?”
“Of course,” she said, moving toward the back of the car. “I’m not an idiot.”
He laughed as he opened the back door, and she slid inside, feeling as if she were entering a carnival ride.
Would it be fun? Would it be scary?
Time would tell.
6
ROMAN
He could hardly believe she was in the back seat next to him, close enough to touch. He wanted to take her to his apartment, cook her dinner, take care of her.
Never let her go.
But that was crazy.
She introduced herself to Max and gave him her address, then sat back in the seat as Max pulled into evening traffic.
Roman was happy to see it was terrible as usual, taxi drivers leaning on their horns as pedestrians clogged the crosswalks. It would give him more time with Ruby, although he worried it wouldn’t actually be the time saver she needed.
She turned her face to the window, and he took advantage of the moment to drink her in. The end of her ponytail brushed against her shoulders, and he wondered what she would look like with her hair down, the chestnut and burgundy locks resting on her bare shoulders or fanned out around her face in bed.
She didn’t appear to be wearing makeup, but her lashes were long and dark, her cheekbones soft and defined in her heart-shaped face. She had a delicate neck, one he could imagine wrapping his hand around, not to hurt her, but to kiss her more deeply.
To claim her.
Even through her coat he could see that her body was soft and generous. It was so unlike the women in his circle, who deployed all manners of eating and exercise protocols to whip their bodies into lean submission, that he couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to be enveloped in Ruby’s softness, to feel the weight of her full breasts in his hand, to trace the swell of her hips.
His cock hardened in his trousers, and he shifted in his seat, feeling almost perverse for wanting to fuck the beautiful fragile — and young, so very young — creature sitting next to him.
She chewed her full bottom lip and wiped her hands on her jeans, and he realized that for all her tough talk, she was still nervous.
The realization made him angry at every man who had ever made a woman afraid, and at himself, because he should have known better than to shout at her on the street, approach her out of the blue.
