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His hand tightens almost painfully around mine as we round the corner to where a low-slung sports car is parked on the street. He reaches for the passenger door handle, but he stops at the last minute and turns to me, still holding my hand.
Again he stares down at me for a long time, before his free hand lifts to my face. He brushes a finger down my cheek. “I’m tempted, Elly. So very tempted to try you. But maybe later.”
He opens the door, and I slide into the buttery soft seat. Heart jumping, I watch his long, sexy stride as he comes around to take the wheel.
He doesn’t look at me as he guns the engine and hits the road. Our conversation from last night replays in my head and I swallow. I don’t want to be mind-fucked again by asking him how he’s feeling. But the silence is eating away at me. I watch his finger tap on the steering wheel and something twinges through my brain. Before it forms properly, I remember I need to text Fionnella.
“Where are you taking me?”
Piercing eyes slice into me. “Why, do you regret this date already?”
“Is that what this is? A date? Only I thought that involved talking.”
“Aren’t we talking? Aren’t we already saying the things that need to be said?”
“I don’t know, Quinn. I’m not as fluent as you in cryptic-speak.”
“You understand me, Elly. More than you want to admit.”
I grimace. “Can we at least pretend I don’t, and speak like normal human beings? And about where you’re taking me, I need an answer.”
He speeds through an amber light, then rattles out an address. I catch some of it and quickly text the Gramercy Park location to Fionnella. She responds seconds later with a ‘got it.’
“Refresh my memory. Normal speak is where we ask each other about our backgrounds, try desperately to find what we have in common. Do you really want to waste time doing that?”
“Yes. I need…a little normal.” When the words fall from my lips I realize how true they are. My life the past several weeks has been a mixture of fear induced flight, followed by almost mind-bending surrealism. Even Miguel and Sully seem like hallucinations I dreamt up.
“Fine. You first. Tell me your last name.”
Shit. I walked into that one. I toy with withholding it for a few seconds, then blurt out, “Gilbert.”
He looks over at me, and the gleam in his eyes spikes the hairs on my nape. “Elly Gilbert.”
“Elyse. My first name is Elyse.”
Eyes on the road, he slowly reaches out with his right hand and captures mine. He brings it to his mouth, and kisses the back of it. “Elyse Gilbert.” He tests my name on his tongue, his voice sexily coarse. “A pleasure to meet you.”
I shiver at the darkness in his tone as he says that. All around us, civilization pulses through the heart of the most vibrant city in the world. Inside the powerful car, I’m caught in something savagely primitive. And I don’t know if I want to escape.
“Your turn. I know the top layer stuff, so don’t give me those.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for me to go deep?” he asks, eyes still on the road, my hand inches from his mouth.
I clear my throat. “Maybe it’s better if I ask the questions?”
A tic appears in his temple, but he nods. “Shoot.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“All over. Summers in the south, winters abroad. But mainly New York.”
“Were you born here?”
“No. I was born in my mother’s ancestral home on Kiawah Island.”
I make a face. “Don’t know where that is. I’m not great with geography. But it sounds exotic.”
He lowers my hand to his thigh, but keeps his hand on it. “It sounds more exotic than it is.”