Page 73

“Go where?” Why is he even up this early?

“Just come.” He sighs like he’s annoyed with my non-compliance.

Fuck him, but I’m too tired to argue, so I stand up and follow him. On my best behavior for a few more days, and we set the date, I remind myself.

He turns to the kitchen and then along the pantry to the garage.

I didn’t venture here during my house exploration, mostly because I have no interest in cars.

“Wow, are all these yours?”

Five different cars are parked under his house, but I’ve only ever seen him in his Escalade with a driver.

Lined up here are a Porsche, a Ferrari, a Lamborghini, and a car I don’t recognize. Its lights blink after a beeping sound, and both doors lift like wings.

“Who else would they belong to?” The annoyance in his voice is now more pronounced.

“Why do you wake up this early if it makes you grumpy?” I roll my eyes.

“Get in.”

Sighing, I climb into the seat. He slides beside me, and the doors close. The car purrs, and the front gate hums before it rolls up.

“Where are we going?”

“For a ride.”

“Really?” I exaggerate my fake shock.

We drive out of the garage, and he stops, turning to me. “She needs to go for a spin. There is no traffic at this hour.”

I want to ask why I have to join him for his joy ride, but he leans over, and all words evaporate.

His masculine scent hits my nostrils, and my breath catches. I’m not going to lie, I’ve been reliving that kiss from the other day. But is this a good idea?

His eyes pierce through me, probably reaching into my soul. Fuck, his gaze is intense. Heat spreads around my cheeks, and… well, all over my body.

His nose is just an inch from my face, and his warm breath elicits goose bumps all over my skin. He moves his arm, and I hold my breath.

The tension is thick with unspoken words and heavy with desire. Until he reaches for the seat belt and moves back to his side, buckling me up.

I look away, gluing my eyes to the passenger window, my heart hammering in my temples. This man will drive me to a loony bin.

We drive in silence, and the monotony of the movement falls heavy on my eyelids. I close my eyes and find it hard to open them again.

When I do, I’m slouched in the seat, my cheek wet from my saliva. The sun is up, the streets full of life. I blink a few times and stretch. I recognize we just turned into our street.

“Good morning,” Corm says.

“What time is it?”

He pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. The door rises again.

“A few minutes past nine.” He gets out of the car.

What? I scramble off my seat while he rounds the car and gives me his hand. Fuck, these low cars are hard to get out from.

“We drove for four hours?” My hand lands on his chest as he yanks me up. Burn. But also, can I please keep it there?