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This whole road trip escape had seemed like someone else’s life, someone else’s reality. Her normal self would never have agreed to this cross-country lunacy. It was as if she was wearing someone else’s clothes. They fit her differently, but if she gave them a chance, they might be better. Her new persona fit her sowell, she wondered if she could go back to her drab old wardrobe ever again.
It had been four hours since they’d left New York, and already, her body buzzed with anticipation for him. Like a midnight craving, what had started as a low simmer in her tummy had grown to a full-on burn the longer she ignored it. She wondered how he’d react if she demanded he pull over to the side of the road, bend over the hood of the car and take her hard. Judging by last night, the chances were good he’d be up for it.No. She folded her hands in her lap, away from temptation. She had plans for him today, big plans, and she fully intended on seeing them through.
Their current destination of Boston had been a random choice. In front of the hotel that morning, they’d spent several minutes trying to devise some sort of logical route for their escape, but it had quickly become muddled and convoluted. She had been the one to suggest theHat of Destiny, a fancy term for one of Xavier’s peaked caps with slips of paper in it. Boston had been the first city they had drawn that was within a day’s drive. Such spontaneity was very unlike her. It felt good.
The car trip so far had been fun. More than fun, more like extended foreplay. Conversation flowed as naturally as breathing, but underneath that…mmm…the prickly feeling under her skin told its own truth. She was here for one reason and one reason only. Last night. That’s why she’d decided to come. That primal urge for more was why she’d woken bright and early, shoved random handfuls of clothes and toiletries into an overnight bag, and raced to meet him.
She’d probably forgotten a hundred things, but at least she’d had the sense to scrawl a farewell note on the back of a receipt and leave it in her kitchen. The note wouldn’t be well received, but a get-away had been long overdue. She’d deal with the fallout later.
Not coming with him had never been an option. After his demonstration the night before, she would crawl across a honey-covered Ryan Gosling to experience Xavier’s tender, powerful touch again. He’d made her come harder than she ever had before, without even entering her, and she wanted more, so much more.
After throwing herself in his car, she’d requested a quick side trip to buy a cell phone. Xavier assumed she’d lost hers, and she’d seen no reason to correct him, her beautiful, naive chauffeur. What had she done to deserve him?
She checked out his hands wrapped around the steering wheel. Gentle, skilled hands. After running her hand up his thigh several hours ago had almost resulted in vehicular manslaughter, she’d hastily called an embargo on touching until they safely reached their destination. She sorely regretted her suggestion.
Her mind replayed the scene earlier that morning when they’d sat together in the back seat, doing their best to keep their hands off one another. His hair had still been wet, the result of showering late after the extra-long run he’d taken that morning. She admired his commitment.
While he’d been out pounding the pavement, she’d slept late and barely had time to throw her things into a suitcase before heading to his hotel. Once there, they’d studied a map of the country as they matched sexualcrimeswith possible destinations. When they’d drawn Boston out of the hat, she had been the one to suggest the library.
She grinned even wider as she recalled exactly how she had enticed him to agree. Her glasses steamed up at the memory. She might have led a quiet life, but she knew enough about men to know they were led by their penis. Mostly.
This one though was a bit of a contradiction. His good looks made him a magnet for people’s attention wherever he went, alarge portion of them female. Yet somehow his focused intensity made her feel like she was the only woman in the world. Her gaze wandered to the long length of his denim-clad legs. So tall. Dear Lord, even in her platform heels the night before, he’d towered over her. It was enough to make a girl feel positively delicate.
The only drawback she’d managed to come up with was he was clearly insane. Seriously, who asked a complete stranger to go on a cross-country fuck-fest with them? Especially one who hadn’t even told him her real name. Hope indeed. All she was reallyhopingfor was that she’d get a few orgasms under her belt before he came to his senses and kicked her to the curb.
After a lifetime of being the good girl, the obedient girl, the nice girl, she needed a break. Even if this was only a brief one. When Xavier had blurted out his impromptu invitation, something inside her had cracked open, and a tidal wave of longing and rebellion had rushed out.
She knew from previous experience that the consequences of such a rebellion could be catastrophic, but the alternative had been unbearable. The alternative was to spend the rest of her life choking behind the bars of domesticity.
The night before she’d armed herself with an expensive red dress and slipped away. Just one drink, she’d promised herself as she’d slid into the warm New York bar. Just one last chance to give herself a night of carefree flirting before she had to return to her controlled, guilt-ridden life. Then Xavier had stopped by her table with his laid-back foreign accent and his pop psychology pickup lines. She’d decided after all this time she was finally entitled to do something for herself. Consequences be damned.
Early in their intense conversation the night before she had simply intended to screw him senseless, but what was the saying about best laid plans? Or was it the best plans to get laid? Like some kind of sexy, out-of-season Santa Claus, instead of beingher first one-night stand, he’d gifted her with an invitation to come with him on this insane road trip.
She’d been so turned on by that stage she would have agreed to anything. Was there such a thing as being lust drunk? It probably wasn’t a thing, but it sure would explain a lot.
Regardless, she’d seen the opportunity and grabbed it, taken it as a chance to reinvent herself for a little while. A chance existed to find out who she could be if she didn’t have someone telling her what to do all the time.
Her new persona had been easier to create than she’d thought. With a few quick costume changes, she’d become every man’s perfect fuckbuddy. A confident fantasy-woman who could drive any man to distraction. The kind of woman who could drive a man to do things he’d never normally consider. Like today, for example. She had intentions to make poor, dear Xavier do things he’d never even dreamt of doing.
Adjusting her dark-rimmed clear-lens glasses, she checked her reflection in the rear-view mirror. With her hair in a severe bun, her buttoned up blouse, cardigan, and pleated tartan skirt, her transformation into an uptight librarian was complete.
He’d shown his appreciation for her costume as soon as she’d climbed into the passenger seat by welcoming her with a kiss that had short-circuited her brain for a good five minutes.
Oh, yeah, he totally had a librarian fetish.
Nonetheless, she nibbled her thumbnail. He noticed and turned towards her, smiling. “Everything okay?”
Aside from being completely out of my depth, sure.
She nibbled her nail some more. “I have this feeling we’ve forgotten something.”
“Morals? Inhibitions? Industrial sized jar of KY jelly?”
She smiled in spite of herself. “No, you jackass. I was thinking more along the lines ofground rules.”
His eyebrows rose, and the car revved as he missed a gear change. She glanced at him, but this time his eyes remained steadfastly forward, his mouth pulled down at the corners. His voice was tight as he asked, “You’ve done this before?”
“Hell no! I just—I think it would be better if we had a few guidelines.”
