I didn’t know why I was letting her now. But, Christ, it was good. Too good. My muscles went tight, my jaw aching.
‘Wow,’ she murmured for the second time. ‘You’re really hot. Like an engine.’
An engine? What the hell?
But then her fingers spread out and she gave me an experimental squeeze, and all thoughts vanished from my head as a wave of pleasure rolled over me.
‘Fuck,’ I muttered hoarsely, my hands closing into fists to stop myself from reaching for her.
A crease deepened between her silky dark brows. ‘Sorry. Was that too hard?’
‘No.’ I could barely get the word out. ‘But you’re done.’
My control was good but it wasn’t limitless.
‘Oh?’ She frowned. ‘But I haven’t finished checking.’
I glowered, my prick throbbing, lust firing in my blood, my temper in no way helped by the firmness of her grip. ‘Yes, you have. I suggest you take your hand off me now, Miss Little. I’m not made of fucking stone.’
There was an intensity in her stare now, as if she was weighing something up in her head, and she didn’t take her hand away, the heat of her palm destroying me second by tantalising second. ‘Are you sure? I mean… I could do something about it, if you like.’
Oh, Christ.
There were so many fucking reasons not to. She was my employee and I didn’t want to cross that line as my bastard father had with my mother. She was also inexperienced and in no way ready to handle what I wanted from her.
Then again, it had been a long time since I’d been with a woman I’d actually wanted because of who she was and not because of what she represented. A long time since I’d been with a woman who looked at me the way Ellie Little was looking at me, as if she saw the dirty street fighter that still lurked inside me and wasn’t afraid.
So, why not? It would be the perfect ending to a perfect night.
‘Yes,’ I said, staring at her, noting how the dusky red in her skin made those little freckles stand out. How the pulse at the base of her throat was fast and getting faster. The way her white shirt pulled across the full curves of her breasts as she breathed. ‘I would very much like you to do something about it.’
Ellie
I COULDN’T BREATHE. I literally couldn’t. Not while Mr Evans stared at me as if he wanted to eat me alive.
And I wanted him to.
Or rather, I wanted to climb into the back seat, crawl into his lap and put my hands on him. Discover the contours of his body, get his engine revving hard, experience the thrill of being at the wheel, handling all that raw power. Speeding down the track…
I had no idea how I’d gone from being embarrassed and expecting to be fired to having my hand on his cock, but it was probably to do with the way he’d goaded me.
I’d tried not to make a fuss about how he’d busted me staring at him in the mirror, tried to keep it jokey and light instead, but he hadn’t let me. He’d been all pissy and rude, and when I’d confronted him, he’d stared at me with those electric-blue eyes and told me bluntly that he wanted to fuck me.
I’d been as much shocked as I had been turned on.
Then I’d got angry at being turned on and things had somehow escalated from there until here I was with my hand on his cock, wanting to fuck him as badly as he apparently wanted to fuck me.
Thoughts of my father and Australis had vanished. The doubts I’d had about touching him, about the way he was looking at me, about memories of Mark had dissipated like smoke.
Because this was nothing like what had happened with Mark.
Mr Evans hadn’t made a grab for me, even though I’d put my hand on him. Even though I’d goaded him as much as he’d goaded me.
No, he’d just sat there and let me touch him, the hard set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes telling me exactly what my hand was doing to him.
It was intoxicating. He was a supercar in human form. Powerful, sleek, dangerous and difficult to manage. But, oh, how I wanted to manage him.
And why not? I knew how to drive a car. Driving a man wasn’t that different.
Are you sure that’s a good idea? This isn’t Davey and you’re not at school any more.
No, I was a grown woman and Mr Evans was definitely nothing like my high-school boyfriend.
He was more than that, he was a challenge I simply couldn’t resist, and wasn’t going to. Because who knew when I’d meet a man like this again?
I might not ever. In which case this would be my only chance to take him out for a spin…
Mr Evans was sitting sprawled out in the back seat, the whole car full of an intense, thrumming energy, like an engine at full rev.
And he was looking at me as if daring me to take him on.
God, he was mesmerising. Even sitting there apparently relaxed he looked dark and arrogant and powerful.
He wasn’t a beautiful man—he was too rugged, too rough and scarred, for beauty. Yet he was phenomenally attractive all the same. Blue eyes and a hard jaw, powerful chest and lean hips. A long, thick ridge behind the denim of his fly…
A thought suddenly occurred to me. ‘What about your blonde?’
‘What about her?’
‘She’s waiting for you.’
His glower intensified, but without a word he reached into his pocket and drew out his phone, looking down at the screen to type in a quick message. Then he threw the phone carelessly down on the seat next to him. ‘She’s not waiting any more. The hotel staff will make sure she’s looked after.’ The ferocity in his face grew impossibly fiercer. ‘Happy?’
I didn’t respond. Instead, with no grace at all, I launched myself out of the driver’s seat and into the back.
He reached for me before I’d completed the movement, catching me by my hips and pulling me into his lap so I sat facing him, my thighs spread on either side of his lean waist.
Right where I wanted to be.
For a moment all I could do was sit, my heartbeat thundering in my head as the reality of the situation began to form around me, a cage of heat, of sensation. Of need.
Sitting on him was exactly like sitting directly on top of a V8 engine.
Hard. Hot. And so powerful.
Excitement
