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“Get in the car.”
I look at the two cars behind him and groan. Why does he have to be so awkward?
“Fine. You can drop me off at the bus stop.”
I get into his car, slam the door, and resist the urge to face him. He’ll be happy he’s won this round.
“Seatbelt, Ainsley.”
Oh, I would love towrap it around your neck.
I click it in place and give him a sarcastic smile.
He puts his foot down, and I can imagine the people behind us are relieved.
The car, although way too much, is gorgeous. The inside is black leather, and it smells like him. It’s not the smoothest drive since it sits low to the ground, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be.
He flies down the main road and straight past the bus stop.
“Casper...”
“Stop talking. I didn’t miss anything. I was never going to drop you there.”
“You have kidnapped me, then.”
“And you don’t think you’re the dramatic one?”
I fold my arms over my chest like a stroppy toddler and instantly regret it. This is what he reduces me to—a petulant child who can only think about winning the most ridiculous of arguments.
Neither of us speak for the rest of the journey, and that seems to suit us both fine. I’m overwhelmed withhimto the point where I think I might actually go crazy. When we bicker, I can usually escape soon after. Right now, I’m stuck in his car where I can see him, smell him, and feel the hot tension rolling off his body in waves that nearly drown me.
Casper takes a sharp corner, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. Can he feel air is thin in here, too? I can barely get enough oxygen. We should never be so close to each other. Only the centre console and our mutual hatred separates us.
From what?
Murder?
I sink deeper into the seat, anxiety swirling in my stomach so vigorously that I might throw up. Pressing my hand to my queasy belly, I close my eyes.
Think about being anywhere else.
If possible, it’s worse with my eyes closed. With the loss of sight, I smell his woody scent so strongly, it dries my throat in an instant.
This reaction to him is not normal.
Moving to plan B, I look out of the window and mark the journey. Thinking about what building is next takes my mind somewhat off the fact that we’re far too close in proximity…
And alone.
Casper pulls into his drive and cuts the engine.
Finally.
I unclasp the belt and grab my bag by my feet with trembling hands.
“Thank you for the lift,” I say, clearing my throat. I need a big glass of water, painkillers, and a touch of amnesia to forget this afternoon.
He leans back against his seat and rolls his head my way.
