Page 14 of Bossy Wicked Prince

A loud honk behind Nate almost makes me jump out of my skin. Obviously, the driver stuck behind Nate is pissed. He slams on the horn a few more times, but Nate doesn’t flinch. Finally, the other guy swerves into the second lane, practically collidingwith the car ahead of him. I suck a breath in through my teeth at the near miss.

“Did you see that? Those cars almost crashed!” I point at the vehicles ahead, but Nate keeps his eyes fixed on me.

“Bad drivers out here at night,” he drawls. “That’s why you should get in the car.”

I stop and put my hands on my hips, glaring at him. “What makes you think you can just boss me around?”

He stops the car. His silvery-gray eyes bore into mine, like he’s trying to tunnel into my soul.

“Because I’m right,” he says. “It’s not safe for you to walk alone. And deep down, you know that.”

“I know that I’ve walked home alone for years and nothing has ever happened to me.”

His eyes narrow. “Then you’ve been lucky. But luck runs out.”

A series of loud honks almost drown out his last words as the light ahead turns green and he doesn’t budge.

“Hey asshole, get out of the road!”

“Hey pretty lady, just get in the car would you? I got places to be!”

“Move, dickface!”

I bite my lip. I hate making people wait. Sure, this late on a Saturday most of them are probably going out to the bars. But what about the ones trying to get home to their kids, or the ones exhausted from long days at work?

“Could you just go?” I try one more time. “Someone’s going to wreck your car.”

Nate folds his hands behind his head, letting me know that he has no plans of moving. “I’ll just buy a new one.”

I scowl at him as more honks fill the late-night street and the sky chooses right then to open up and rain on my resolve. The frigid downpour drenches me in seconds and when I hear Natethrow open the passenger door, I curse to myself and make a break for it, holding my bag over my head.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re completely obnoxious,” I tell him as I slide into the seat and shut the door behind me, shivering into the damp leather.

His eyes glint with victory. “Many times.”

Despite myself, there’s a tiny smile tugging at the edge of my mouth and I do my damndest not to let the smug fucker see it.

“Why aren’t you driving?”

“You haven’t given me directions yet,” he says like it’s obvious as he continues to hold up Toronto traffic.

“I assumed,as my stalker, you already knew where I lived,” I say before I can rein it in. “Just go straight.”

He puts the car in drive, flipping some switches and twisting some dials until warm air pushes through the air vents and my ass is toasty enough to make me melt into the seat.

As we move, Nate goes back to his usual silent demeanor. But that’s fine with me—I don’t need to talk just to fill the silence. Besides, he’s got Cigarettes After Sex playing quietly through the speakers. I’m surprised he listens to someone who’s actually on my own playlists.

“Turn left here,” I say after a few more lights.

He silently obeys and shifts gears. My eyes flick over to his right hand with its thick, masculine fingers and the tendons running down to his wide forearm.

In the confined space of the car, I’m all too aware of just how big Nate is. His broad shoulders go beyond the natural contours of his seat, which is pushed all the way back to accommodate his long legs. Just as invasive as his body is his scent, something spicy, sexy, and expensive.

Just like yesterday, he’s not dressed in his usual buttoned-up outfit, though I spot his blazer laid neatly over the backseat, a sage green tie folded on top of it. His sleeves are rolled up tohis forearms again, his top buttons undone. His dark hair is still mostly neat, except for a single curling strand falling onto his forehead.

I like him like this, just a little bit undone. He’s more accessible, more…touchable. Automatically, my mind tries to fill out the sketch of what’s under his designer clothes—the lines of his muscles, whether he has any tattoos…

Stop!