on the hood, ripping off your panties, and giving you the best fuck you’ve ever had.”
At least he was honest.
“Got any truth right in between filtered and cold, hard?” I asked, putting my plan together.
Ian stroked his chin, watching me like I was a rabbit to be snared. “Yeah, I do,” he said, leaning in so close, I could feel the hard and hot truth against my body. “I want to fuck you. And I know you want to fuck me, too. So why don’t we cut this dance early and get it out of our systems already? I’m not the kind of man who does delayed gratification well.”
No man did delayed gratification well. Some just knew how to grin and bear it. The men I worked with hadn’t honed that skill.
“Maybe I do want to fuck you. And maybe I don’t,” I replied, stepping aside to show he couldn’t manhandle me at will. The only way he could manhandle me was if I gave him permission. “But I will make a bet with you.”
“Oh?” That flash of excitement was in his eyes again. “What kind of bet?”
My eyes shifted to the hood of my car. It was a perfect plan, a way to get the philandering Neanderthal out from behind locked steel doors. “I’ll let you fuck me on the hood of my car.”
Ian waited a few seconds. After another moment, his patience ran out. “There was an if condition in your tone. So give me the if condition before I convince you you don’t need or want an if when it comes to my dick working its magic.”
Dicks didn’t work magic. The men behind them did. To date, I’d only known one worthy of claiming the “making magic” skill, and that was the same man I hated to hell and back.
“If— if— you beat me in our next race”—I quirked an eyebrow as I glanced at the prominent bulge in his pants—“I’ll let you fuck me on the hood of my car.”
“If?”
“ If.”
Ian grinned. “You’ve got that all wrong, Ally. It’s not if I beat you, it’s when I beat you.”
“When you beat me?” I repeated, giving him a skeptical look. “We’ll see.”
“Yes. Yes, we will.” Ian grinned widely before patting my car’s hood and heading back to his.
I WAS JUST about to step into the shower to wash away both the actual and figurative filth from the race when my G phone buzzed.
I’d thought I would be flattered she was checking in on me so much. Now that it was reality, it was just plain annoying. I knew what I was doing and didn’t have to be handheld the entire way—with a Ten as a Target or not.
I didn’t have a chance to issue my usual not-so-usual greeting.
“You’re leaving Seattle.”
I cinched the tie of my robe. “When?”
“The first plane out you can catch. Let’s see . . . you’re at the Four Seasons, thirty minutes give or take traffic from the airport. Shall I book you for the ten or ten-thirty?”
“G, I just flew back today, and you want me out again tonight? You know I’m willing to do whatever it takes, but can’t it wait twenty-four hours until I close the Hendrik Errand? What’s the rush anyways?” I flopped into the chair outside the bathroom and eyed my suitcase. At least I hadn’t unpacked yet.
“I don’t care about the Hendrik Errand. We’re dropping it. Right now, I need you giving one hundred percent to the Callahan Errand.”
I’d officially heard it all. “Could you repeat that because I swear I just heard you say we’re dropping an Errand. Since we’ve never dropped an Errand, since I’ve never even considered dropping an Errand, I know I must have heard you wrong.”
Eves didn’t drop Errands. Hell, we rarely failed an Errand, let alone burned the file and ran, and damn if I was going to be the first to do so.
“You heard me right, Eve. Dispose of the file, check out, and get your ass on a plane.”
“Mr. Callahan just left to fly halfway around the world. He’s probably just landed, and for some reason, you think he’s going to hold a two-minute meeting in the airport then fly back in time for lunch
At least he was honest.
“Got any truth right in between filtered and cold, hard?” I asked, putting my plan together.
Ian stroked his chin, watching me like I was a rabbit to be snared. “Yeah, I do,” he said, leaning in so close, I could feel the hard and hot truth against my body. “I want to fuck you. And I know you want to fuck me, too. So why don’t we cut this dance early and get it out of our systems already? I’m not the kind of man who does delayed gratification well.”
No man did delayed gratification well. Some just knew how to grin and bear it. The men I worked with hadn’t honed that skill.
“Maybe I do want to fuck you. And maybe I don’t,” I replied, stepping aside to show he couldn’t manhandle me at will. The only way he could manhandle me was if I gave him permission. “But I will make a bet with you.”
“Oh?” That flash of excitement was in his eyes again. “What kind of bet?”
My eyes shifted to the hood of my car. It was a perfect plan, a way to get the philandering Neanderthal out from behind locked steel doors. “I’ll let you fuck me on the hood of my car.”
Ian waited a few seconds. After another moment, his patience ran out. “There was an if condition in your tone. So give me the if condition before I convince you you don’t need or want an if when it comes to my dick working its magic.”
Dicks didn’t work magic. The men behind them did. To date, I’d only known one worthy of claiming the “making magic” skill, and that was the same man I hated to hell and back.
“If— if— you beat me in our next race”—I quirked an eyebrow as I glanced at the prominent bulge in his pants—“I’ll let you fuck me on the hood of my car.”
“If?”
“ If.”
Ian grinned. “You’ve got that all wrong, Ally. It’s not if I beat you, it’s when I beat you.”
“When you beat me?” I repeated, giving him a skeptical look. “We’ll see.”
“Yes. Yes, we will.” Ian grinned widely before patting my car’s hood and heading back to his.
I WAS JUST about to step into the shower to wash away both the actual and figurative filth from the race when my G phone buzzed.
I’d thought I would be flattered she was checking in on me so much. Now that it was reality, it was just plain annoying. I knew what I was doing and didn’t have to be handheld the entire way—with a Ten as a Target or not.
I didn’t have a chance to issue my usual not-so-usual greeting.
“You’re leaving Seattle.”
I cinched the tie of my robe. “When?”
“The first plane out you can catch. Let’s see . . . you’re at the Four Seasons, thirty minutes give or take traffic from the airport. Shall I book you for the ten or ten-thirty?”
“G, I just flew back today, and you want me out again tonight? You know I’m willing to do whatever it takes, but can’t it wait twenty-four hours until I close the Hendrik Errand? What’s the rush anyways?” I flopped into the chair outside the bathroom and eyed my suitcase. At least I hadn’t unpacked yet.
“I don’t care about the Hendrik Errand. We’re dropping it. Right now, I need you giving one hundred percent to the Callahan Errand.”
I’d officially heard it all. “Could you repeat that because I swear I just heard you say we’re dropping an Errand. Since we’ve never dropped an Errand, since I’ve never even considered dropping an Errand, I know I must have heard you wrong.”
Eves didn’t drop Errands. Hell, we rarely failed an Errand, let alone burned the file and ran, and damn if I was going to be the first to do so.
“You heard me right, Eve. Dispose of the file, check out, and get your ass on a plane.”
“Mr. Callahan just left to fly halfway around the world. He’s probably just landed, and for some reason, you think he’s going to hold a two-minute meeting in the airport then fly back in time for lunch
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