Page 54 of Guarded King

“But you’ll get soaked.”

“I’ll live.” I stare at her until she takes the jacket and lifts it above her.

“You know you could join me under here.”

I could. But for my jacket to cover us both, I’d have to get close. I’d have to slide my arm around her waist and pull her into me. And that’s too damn dangerous.

“Just go. Before the weather gets even worse.”

Without another moment of hesitation, she takes off. I follow, my shirt getting instantly drenched. Because Chloe’s wearing heels, I overtake her and open the car door for her.

She slides in, and I climb in right behind her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHLOE

Oh, god.

The press of his hardness against me lingers, and the delicious ache that bloomed between my thighs the moment he wrapped his hand in my hair in that elevator still throbs. As if my body has been waiting all this time for him to do just that.

And now his pale blue shirt is soaked, sticking to his skin, revealing every detail of the sleek muscles below. His dark hair clings to him, one inky curl falling over his forehead.

I itch to reach out and brush it back, but the move would be reckless. Risky.

He said it himself; it was a loss of control. We were in a dark, confined space. He was comforting me, and things got out of hand. That’s all. I can’t read anything more into it.

And I shouldn’t want to.

But a part of me, a far too large part, wonders what might have happened if the lights hadn’t come back on when they did. Would he have kissed me? Touched me? Slid those long, capable fingers up my thighs and under my dress?

A shiver works its way through me, my nipples rasping against the suddenly too-thin material of my bra and dress.

When I let myself look at him, his eyes are fixed on me, his focus dipping to my chest, pale gray irises darkening to the color of the storm clouds outside. The assessment sends a slow pulse of heat through me.

“Are you cold?” His voice is rough around the edges.

I latch on to the excuse rather than letting on just how acutely the memory of his touch is affecting me. “A little.” Although I didn’t get anywhere near as wet as he did, the rain still dampened my dress, making it cling to my thighs.

He takes his jacket from the seat next to me and drapes it around me, his hands skating over my shoulders and down my arms before he sits back. The rain didn’t make it through the high-quality lining, so the heavy garment quickly morphs into a warm cocoon around me. It smells like him. Dark and intoxicating. I want to pull it closer, bury my nose in the collar, and breathe him in.

Instead, I wrap my arms around myself and turn to the window, resisting the urge to keep looking at him.

When we get back to the office, Phillip pulls the car into the underground garage. Roman gets out first, then holds his hand out to me. His fingers are warm around mine, but he drops them as soon as I’m steady on my feet. While we wait for the elevator, I slip his jacket off my shoulders and hold it out for him.

“Thank you. It kept me warm.”

“I’m glad.” He takes it from me and shrugs it on, covering his still-wet shirt, just as the elevator opens. I should be nervous considering what transpired during our last ride, but my mind is too full of him.

“When we get upstairs,” he says, looking straight ahead as we start ascending. “Grab your purse. Phillip’s going to take you home.”

I check my watch. “But it’s not even five.” A rock forms in my stomach. Is he angry at me?

Am Ifired?

As if he can sense my panic, he faces me, the tension around his jaw softening. “The weather’s getting worse,” he says gently. “I don’t want you out in it.”

The rock in my stomach explodes into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. “Are you going home?”