marking the spots and the red fire extinguishers hanging on the walls are the only splashes of color.
A big black sedan is parked in the spot nearest the elevators. The rest of the spaces are empty. “You’re the first to arrive,” I remark, “and the last to leave.” He lowers me to my feet and I wince, my heels paining me. “I’ll be glad to be wearing my slingbacks tomorrow.”
“I assume slingbacks are shoes.” A red light skims along the car’s tinted windows. Henley presses a button on his key fob and the light disappears. “I won’t ask what color those shoes are.”
“They’re not black.” I grin. “Your car is high security.” I nod, impressed.
“I try.” He opens the passenger door for me. I hobble into the seat. He shuts the door and strides to the driver’s side. The interior is plush leather and smells of lemon and cedar, his scent. I breathe deeply, savoring the combination as Henley settles behind the wheel. His seat is tilted backward and pushed so far away from the dashboard, it is almost in the backseat.
“You must have trouble renting cars,” I observe cheerily as he drives. “You’re huge.” Henley drives similarly to how he walks: smoothly, gracefully, his movements controlled. “My uncle has a driver. He works in the limousine as he commutes. He claims it saves him a lot of time.”
“I like driving,” Henley states. We exit the parking garage, moving into the daylight, the sun’s rays dimmed by the tinted windshield. He lowers the window behind mine and fresh air fills the interior.
“I like watching you drive,” I admit, slipping my feet out of my shoes. The car is immaculately clean, every inch polished. I place my bare feet on the dashboard. Henley’s gaze flicks to my toes and I brace for his reaction, expecting him to tell me to move my feet. He says nothing, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
I look out of the window, recognizing nothing. “Are we going to your place?”
“No.”
“Oh.” I tap the window with my fingernails. “That’s too bad. I’d like to see your place.” I glance at him, hope filling my chest. The thought of returning to my empty hotel room doesn’t appeal to me. Henley says nothing, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“I’d really like to see your place.” I place my hand on his upper thigh and his muscles flex under the fabric of his pants. “Tomorrow starts at midnight. We could start the new day with several rounds of hot, passionate animal sex.”
Henley grips the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles whitening. Silence stretches, the dreaded silence. I chew the inside of my cheek. Did I sound too desperate, too needy?
“This isn’t about sex, is it?” he finally asks, his voice soft. I shake my head, unable to think about why I need to stay with him, to not be alone. He places his hand over mine, his skin warm and coarse. “You might not trust tomorrow but you can trust me, kitten. Nothing bad will happen to me.”
“You don’t know that.” I’ve heard that statement before. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” I squeeze Henley’s leg, the contact reassuring me. “Promise me you won’t drag race or run with the bulls or smoke an entire carton of cigarettes in one night.”
“I don’t take unnecessary risks and I have regular medical checkups.” Henley steers the car into a driveway. “Today I even ate broccoli. I plan to have vegetables for dinner also.”
“Good.” I force a smile. “Choose vegetables like brussels sprouts, broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, or kale, lightly cooked. Those are the best foods for you.” I gaze at him. “I can make you dinner. I cook for my father and he claims I’m great at it.”
“I’m sure you’re a great cook and we’ll have dinner soon, but not tonight.” Henley stops the car, parking the vehicle in front of my hotel’s entrance, the historic building casting a long shadow over us.
“You know where I’m staying,” I murmur. Of course he know
A big black sedan is parked in the spot nearest the elevators. The rest of the spaces are empty. “You’re the first to arrive,” I remark, “and the last to leave.” He lowers me to my feet and I wince, my heels paining me. “I’ll be glad to be wearing my slingbacks tomorrow.”
“I assume slingbacks are shoes.” A red light skims along the car’s tinted windows. Henley presses a button on his key fob and the light disappears. “I won’t ask what color those shoes are.”
“They’re not black.” I grin. “Your car is high security.” I nod, impressed.
“I try.” He opens the passenger door for me. I hobble into the seat. He shuts the door and strides to the driver’s side. The interior is plush leather and smells of lemon and cedar, his scent. I breathe deeply, savoring the combination as Henley settles behind the wheel. His seat is tilted backward and pushed so far away from the dashboard, it is almost in the backseat.
“You must have trouble renting cars,” I observe cheerily as he drives. “You’re huge.” Henley drives similarly to how he walks: smoothly, gracefully, his movements controlled. “My uncle has a driver. He works in the limousine as he commutes. He claims it saves him a lot of time.”
“I like driving,” Henley states. We exit the parking garage, moving into the daylight, the sun’s rays dimmed by the tinted windshield. He lowers the window behind mine and fresh air fills the interior.
“I like watching you drive,” I admit, slipping my feet out of my shoes. The car is immaculately clean, every inch polished. I place my bare feet on the dashboard. Henley’s gaze flicks to my toes and I brace for his reaction, expecting him to tell me to move my feet. He says nothing, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
I look out of the window, recognizing nothing. “Are we going to your place?”
“No.”
“Oh.” I tap the window with my fingernails. “That’s too bad. I’d like to see your place.” I glance at him, hope filling my chest. The thought of returning to my empty hotel room doesn’t appeal to me. Henley says nothing, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“I’d really like to see your place.” I place my hand on his upper thigh and his muscles flex under the fabric of his pants. “Tomorrow starts at midnight. We could start the new day with several rounds of hot, passionate animal sex.”
Henley grips the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles whitening. Silence stretches, the dreaded silence. I chew the inside of my cheek. Did I sound too desperate, too needy?
“This isn’t about sex, is it?” he finally asks, his voice soft. I shake my head, unable to think about why I need to stay with him, to not be alone. He places his hand over mine, his skin warm and coarse. “You might not trust tomorrow but you can trust me, kitten. Nothing bad will happen to me.”
“You don’t know that.” I’ve heard that statement before. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” I squeeze Henley’s leg, the contact reassuring me. “Promise me you won’t drag race or run with the bulls or smoke an entire carton of cigarettes in one night.”
“I don’t take unnecessary risks and I have regular medical checkups.” Henley steers the car into a driveway. “Today I even ate broccoli. I plan to have vegetables for dinner also.”
“Good.” I force a smile. “Choose vegetables like brussels sprouts, broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, or kale, lightly cooked. Those are the best foods for you.” I gaze at him. “I can make you dinner. I cook for my father and he claims I’m great at it.”
“I’m sure you’re a great cook and we’ll have dinner soon, but not tonight.” Henley stops the car, parking the vehicle in front of my hotel’s entrance, the historic building casting a long shadow over us.
“You know where I’m staying,” I murmur. Of course he know
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