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“We left your House five minutes ago,” he answered, shocking the hell out of me.
Maybe my plan wasn’t so asinine after all.
“How do you know that?” I asked. “Was there a sign I missed while I was talking or had my eyes closed? Or have you been here plenty of times before and just know?”
His head turned toward me once more. “I’m having a difficult time believing you’re that stupid.”
The tone of his words was flat, making it hard for me to decide if I should be offended by his statement or not…
“I don’t think I’m stupid,” I said. “Sheltered. Naïve. Inexperienced. All of those, yes. But not stupid when given the opportunity to learn.”
Another delicious rumble built from deep inside his chest, but he seemed to be all out of verbal responses.
Just when I was ready to go on my next tangent, I caught sight of the Jeep he’d mentioned. There wasn’t a top on it. Just a black roll cage above the navy-blue body.
He eyed the front of the vehicle, then the back, before setting me down. His hands grabbed my biceps, positioning me until I was standing in front of him. “Don’t piss me off or I will tie a rope around your waist before securing it to the top bar and let you drag behind the Jeep while I travel at eighty miles an hour down the freeway.”
I glanced quickly behind him, then back at his face. “Oh. Was that you being nice back there? Cool. Super good to know,” I droned.
He might have been a mostly unfeeling prick, but even he wouldn’t have missed my sarcasm there.
Though there was no insight as to what he thought of my words because in the next second, he spun me around, lifted me up by the hold he still had on my arms, and tossed me into the front seat. “If you sit there and keep your mouth shut for at least thirty minutes, I’ll tell you my name.”
Oh, he was negotiating. I could work with that.
“Does that mean every half-hour I get to ask a question?” There was no hiding my grin. I could possibly agree to this.
His lip lifted into a lovely snarl, then he stormed around the front of the vehicle.
I was totally winning here.
Never mind that I was still being taken somewhere against my will.
Well, mostly against my will.
Richard pressed a button on the dashboard, and a thrum of energy ignited around us. The motor turned over, a low, rumbling sound echoing from the exhaust.
He turned the wheel and maneuvered the jeep around while I put on my seatbelt. Something I’d only ever read about in books.
My stomach churned as his speed increased, and I pressed my hands over my face, doing my best to hold in the groan that badly wanted to escape.
One of his fingers poked my shoulders hard, likely leaving a bruise. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I gagged, keeping my eyes closed. “Trying not to throw up in your car.”
He slammed on the brakes, and my boobs were hugged a little too tightly by the chest strap.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” I snapped, but before he could answer, I turned my head until it was hanging over the door, thankful there were no windows on this thing, and vomited. Hard.
“Fucking hell,” he grumbled before I heard his door open and close.
My head was pounding, and my mouth tasted like rotten food.
Okay, maybe I should have been more grateful to have never been in a moving vehicle before.
I could see his black boots a few feet from where my puddle of disgustingness was glistening under the moonlight. Once I was done gagging, his finger pressed against my clammy forehead and pushed my head back up. “You’re faking that.”
My eyes rolled, and I sighed. “Who the fuck would fake needing to throw up? It’s not the most pleasant thing to do. If I were faking anything, I’d have pretended to pass out.”
