me in place. His lips were soft, warm, and his stubble teased my cheek.
I gasped when his tongue darted out, running across my lips as a silent request. Granted access, he explored my mouth, every nook and cranny. It’d be a long time since I’d been kissed like this. I was in heaven. It took only a moment for me to respond, pressing my body flush against him and allowing my tongue to meet his. He tasted like gin and man, and so good it should be illegal. He’d dropped his hands at some point, moving them to rest along my sides. I couldn’t have stopped the moan that escaped me when his thumbs grazed the sides of my breasts, even if I’d wanted to. Boy did I not want to at the moment. Suddenly someone cleared their throat behind Dane.
“Ignore them – they’ll go away,” he growled into my open mouth before deepening the kiss. Damned if that wasn’t the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to me.
“Mister Ranucci, your car, sir.” I recognized the voice as John, the valet. Despite his obvious disappointment, Dane broke the kiss, idly tucking a strand of hair that’d escaped my chignon behind my ear. Kissing me a final time, almost chastely, on the lips, he turned. Well, if he didn’t look like the cat that ate the canary. I stayed quiet as he collected the keys, trying to slow my breathing before I passed out.
Dane ushered me toward his car, a shiny blue Mercedes coupe. It wasn’t surprising that his car would be intimidating, like him. I was surprised, however, that he actually owned a car in the city – I told him so too.
“I don’t own it … it’s a rental. I don’t like being chauffeured to crap like this – I like to leave whenever I want. Renting makes it easier,” he elaborated as he helped lower me in it. He even leaned down to pick the bottom of my gown up, making sure it was safely away from the door as he shut it. Awww .
The inside of the car was nothing short of luxurious. Black leather seats and carbon fiber greeted me, looking plush and rich and masculine – exactly the car I would have envisaged for him. There were more buttons on the console, gear shift, and doors than I’d ever know what to do with. Dane climbed in, looking ridiculously in control as he started the engine and pulled away from the curb. Of course he’d be at home in something like this. His rental kicked my little Civic’s ass.
“What kind of car is this? Other than a Mercedes ,” I asked him, genuinely curious. I wasn’t a huge car buff, but I had a healthy appreciation for them.
“It’s a CLS 63 AMG S Coupe, decked out of course.” His face lit up as he spoke – boys and their toys and all that. I opened my mouth to ask him another question when my stomach growled. It was so loud in the silence of the vehicle that I cringed. Real ladylike, Ryen, that voice scolded me. I only now realized I hadn’t eaten anything except breakfast, plus the little snacks on the plane. Grey Goose, unfortunately, isn’t considered a food group.
“Hungry?” Dane asked, chuckling.
“Famished,” I whispered, ignoring the silent wisp of desire I felt at his grin. No. Don’t get it bad, girl. Don’t.
“I know a place,” he said as he eased out into traffic. How he could maneuver in Manhattan was beyond me, but he managed like a pro. He must rent a car often, or at least drive in other big cities.
We rode in silence, but not uncomfortably so. Dane had turned the radio on at some point, letting a variety of soft music filter through the speakers. I’d found I really enjoyed being in his company, even when neither of us were talking. The few times he’d caught me watching him, he’d smiled and ducked his head, almost shyly. Damn, shy looked good on him as well.
Not going to lie, I kept waiting for the real asshole to appear. I knew it was unfair, and that it was still early, but it was the truth. Unfortunately, I knew better than most that the real person behind the face could take months to show up. It was
I gasped when his tongue darted out, running across my lips as a silent request. Granted access, he explored my mouth, every nook and cranny. It’d be a long time since I’d been kissed like this. I was in heaven. It took only a moment for me to respond, pressing my body flush against him and allowing my tongue to meet his. He tasted like gin and man, and so good it should be illegal. He’d dropped his hands at some point, moving them to rest along my sides. I couldn’t have stopped the moan that escaped me when his thumbs grazed the sides of my breasts, even if I’d wanted to. Boy did I not want to at the moment. Suddenly someone cleared their throat behind Dane.
“Ignore them – they’ll go away,” he growled into my open mouth before deepening the kiss. Damned if that wasn’t the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to me.
“Mister Ranucci, your car, sir.” I recognized the voice as John, the valet. Despite his obvious disappointment, Dane broke the kiss, idly tucking a strand of hair that’d escaped my chignon behind my ear. Kissing me a final time, almost chastely, on the lips, he turned. Well, if he didn’t look like the cat that ate the canary. I stayed quiet as he collected the keys, trying to slow my breathing before I passed out.
Dane ushered me toward his car, a shiny blue Mercedes coupe. It wasn’t surprising that his car would be intimidating, like him. I was surprised, however, that he actually owned a car in the city – I told him so too.
“I don’t own it … it’s a rental. I don’t like being chauffeured to crap like this – I like to leave whenever I want. Renting makes it easier,” he elaborated as he helped lower me in it. He even leaned down to pick the bottom of my gown up, making sure it was safely away from the door as he shut it. Awww .
The inside of the car was nothing short of luxurious. Black leather seats and carbon fiber greeted me, looking plush and rich and masculine – exactly the car I would have envisaged for him. There were more buttons on the console, gear shift, and doors than I’d ever know what to do with. Dane climbed in, looking ridiculously in control as he started the engine and pulled away from the curb. Of course he’d be at home in something like this. His rental kicked my little Civic’s ass.
“What kind of car is this? Other than a Mercedes ,” I asked him, genuinely curious. I wasn’t a huge car buff, but I had a healthy appreciation for them.
“It’s a CLS 63 AMG S Coupe, decked out of course.” His face lit up as he spoke – boys and their toys and all that. I opened my mouth to ask him another question when my stomach growled. It was so loud in the silence of the vehicle that I cringed. Real ladylike, Ryen, that voice scolded me. I only now realized I hadn’t eaten anything except breakfast, plus the little snacks on the plane. Grey Goose, unfortunately, isn’t considered a food group.
“Hungry?” Dane asked, chuckling.
“Famished,” I whispered, ignoring the silent wisp of desire I felt at his grin. No. Don’t get it bad, girl. Don’t.
“I know a place,” he said as he eased out into traffic. How he could maneuver in Manhattan was beyond me, but he managed like a pro. He must rent a car often, or at least drive in other big cities.
We rode in silence, but not uncomfortably so. Dane had turned the radio on at some point, letting a variety of soft music filter through the speakers. I’d found I really enjoyed being in his company, even when neither of us were talking. The few times he’d caught me watching him, he’d smiled and ducked his head, almost shyly. Damn, shy looked good on him as well.
Not going to lie, I kept waiting for the real asshole to appear. I knew it was unfair, and that it was still early, but it was the truth. Unfortunately, I knew better than most that the real person behind the face could take months to show up. It was
Similar Books
The Evil That Men Do: FBI Profiler Roy Hazelwood's Journey Into the Minds of Sexual Predators
Stephen G. Michaud, Roy Hazelwood
