Page 121 of Lethal Torture

I scrape my teeth across my lower lip and then slowly wipe the linen napkin over my mouth and down toward my breasts. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see, Simon, won’t we?”

His eyes widen at my use of his first name, and his breathing all but stops.

Luke’s low chuckle vibrates between my legs more potently than any device ever could. “I’d say that’s game over, princess, wouldn’t you?”

I’d say that you’d better be up to finishing the game you started, Macarthur, because after this little chapter, there’s no way I’m getting any work done for the rest of today.

“Thank you for the lunch invitation, Mr. Lowbridge.” Placing my napkin on the table, I stand up. “Do enjoy your meal. Although next time, I’d recommend the Châteauneuf-du-Pape instead of the Barolo.”

Then I turn and walk away, leaving him with the obscenely large platter of meat, a full bottle of wine, and an almost comical look of dismay.

“Charge the bill to my account,” I murmur to the maître d’ as I pass. “And for God’s sake, send my guest a glass of decent wine to go with his lunch.”

I make it outside, alcohol and Luke’s low voice coiling like a serpent of desire in the pit of my belly, and feel almost faint with relief when the limo pulls up and Luke steps out of the driver’s seat, a dangerous smile curling the edges of his mouth.

“I sent Enzo and Charlie back to the club,” he says as he opens the rear door. “I told them I needed to debrief you before we open tonight.”

“Debriefing,” I say as I brush past him, shooting him a sultry look that makes his eyes go satisfyingly dark. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Just wait until that car door closes, Miss Melikov,” he murmurs, leaning forward on the pretext of tucking me in but instead running his fingers up my inner thigh until I gasp. “I plan to repay you for every one of those scallops.”

Out of sight of the street he kisses me once, hard, taking my laughter and my breath at once, and then he closes the door and walks around the limo, whistling between his teeth.

I catch sight of my flushed face in the mirror, the hard buds of my nipples under my dress.

No wonder Lowbridge got so flustered.

The idiot no doubt thought it was him having this effect on me.

If he only knew.

Luke slides into the driver’s seat and lowers the window between us as he pulls out into the traffic. Pulling out his earpiece, he holds out his hand, and I drop my own into it.

“Please tell me nobody else could hear you talking to me,” I say, suddenly horrified at the thought of my staff listening in to our banter.

“Definitely not.” Luke gives me a filthy grin in the rearview mirror. “I split their comms to a separate channel before you ever got inside the restaurant. And they certainly can’t hear us now,” he adds, switching off both earpieces. “Which is good, given that I need you to spread your legs for me.”

He says it so matter-of-factly that for a moment I’m not sure I’ve heard him right.

Then I see his eyes on mine in the mirror, and suddenly I can barely breathe at all.

“My dress is too tight for that.” My voice shakes.

“So pull it up.” His eyes flicker to mine in the mirror, then back to the road. “Do it, Zinaida.”

Oh, fuck.

Quivering inside, I squirm on the seat until my dress is hitched high enough for my legs to part.

“Nice underwear.” His eyes settle on the dark patch of my arousal on the cream silk. “Now take them off.”

I hook my fingers under the silk and slide them off, swelling under his scrutiny in the mirror. Outside the day is already growing winter dim, the streetlights casting an intimate glow through the tinted windows. Slowly I spread my legs open.

“Hmm.” Luke’s eyes flicker between me and the road. “What has you so hot and bothered, Miss Melikov?”

I try not to squirm, desperate for his touch. “You know.”

He raises his eyebrows, his mouth curling knowingly. “Oh, I think I’m going to need you to be more explicit, princess.”