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It’s the touch of a man possessed with need, and my hope is he never stops touching me like this. He gives both ass cheeks a tight squeeze that ignites that low-building fire in my core.
I squeak and break away, breathless.
"Let's go," he growls, “before I lose control and fuck you on the countertop, leaving your release and my cum as proof that we were here.”
“Sebastian would not approve.” I laugh, already picturing his face if he discovered us.
“I don’t care what your brother approves of or not. Not when it comes to you, Flower. There are no rules, and if there were they were meant to be broken anyway. I’ll do whatever the hell I want with you and to you.” The unhinged tone of his voice, mixed with his words, wraps around me like smoke, and I shiver both turned on and excited.
“Lead the way, Caveman,” I taunt.
He takes my hand in his and tugs me out of the kitchen. Hand in hand, we walk the rest of the way through the house, stopping only once we’re outside. There’s a sleek all-black sports car parked a little bit down the drive. I assume it’s Drew’s since I don’t think Sebastian would ever drive something like that.
I’ve never seen Drew drive nor did I know he had a car, but I suppose there's a first for everything. We walk down the driveway, and he opens the door for me with a smile. There’s still that lingering lust in his eyes, but it seems like he’s got a better grasp on himself now. After he helps me in, ensuring I buckle up, he climbs in on the driver’s side. When he starts the car, I feel the rumbling of the engine in my bones. It gives me a rush of adrenaline, and when he throws the thing in drive and speeds down the driveway, the acceleration pinning me back in the seat, I turn and look at him.
I decide to continue the conversation, hoping maybe that will help. "Is this yours?"
He shifts gears like a professional race car driver expertly weaving through traffic. "Yes, but I don't drive it much. It's temperamental."
I smooth my hand over the soft leather. "Like someone else I know."
He shoots me a cheeky grin, but I can still sense something is wrong. I just can’t pinpoint what. “There isn’t really a reason to drive. Not when I can use the rideshare app or walk. I prefer the latter because walking gives me time to think and helps to clear my head.”
I nod and look down at my hands, which I’ve placed in my lap. Something feels off, and I don’t like it. This uneasiness seems to blanket the air. Back at the house, everything was fine, but now it's not. I want him to tell me if something is wrong, to feel comfortable coming to me.
I want us to be a team.
“Is everything okay?” I look up from my hands and over at him. He glances away from the road, his gaze meeting mine for half a second.
“Of course everything is okay. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well, for starters, you’re strangling the steering wheel like it owes you money.”
He lets out a huff and loosens his grip, choosing to drive with one hand instead. With his other, he reaches for me, interlacing our fingers. Whatever worries I had moments ago evaporate into thin air when he touches me.
“I’m just anxious, and I don’t want to fuck this up. That’s all.”
I don’t think that’s what it is, but I let him believe I do. The car swerves into the parking lot of some swanky restaurant. It looks like one of those steakhouses, but if I had to describe it, I’d say it’s a Texas Roadhouse meets a country club.
Drew pulls up, stopping at the entrance. The valet attendant greets us and opens my door, offering me a hand. I’m just about to place my hand in his when Drew comes out of nowhere, glaring daggers at the guy.
“Don’t touch her,” he practically growls and tosses the keys at him.
The kid, who looks to be about sixteen or so, clams up.
“Sorry.” I frown and let Drew help me out of the car. Once I’m standing, I tug him toward the entrance to make sure he doesn’t start anything.
Inside, we’re greeted by a hostess. The lights are low, and the sound of piano music filters in through the speakers.
It’s beautiful and fancy as fuck.
For once, I feel appropriately dressed, if not a little self-conscious as I feel people's eyes raking across my bare skin. My arms, shoulders, and legs are all exposed, and the dress hugs every inch of my skin tightly. Drew doesn’t appear to notice their gawking stares and skims his hand down my spine as he speaks with the hostess.
“Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Marshall.”
The woman smiles, and I open my mouth to tell her we’re not married but then think better of it. I’m sure it was an accident. The woman guides us to the left of the restaurant into an area that looks like it’s been roped off for private parties or high end guests. Drew’s hand on my lower back grounds me, and once we’re in the room, the hostess disappears.
The strange feeling is still there, but I ignore it and give him a smile, allowing him to pull the chair out for me. I scoot into the table, my gaze sweeping the room. It’s beautiful with the lights dimmed, candles lit, and a bouquet of roses on the table.
