Domination Games
Page 7
“At least tell me your name,” I demand, as fiercely as I dare. “Since you somehow know mine.”
“Guess,” he teases, again in that annoying melodic tone.
“I don’t like playing games,” I snap. Damn, this whole not mouthing off thing is not going so great. “Just tell me.”
“Very well,” he says, lips curving down. Clearly, I’m not turning out to be as fun as he’d hoped. Fingers crossed this disappointment simply ends in him leaving me alone. “You can call me Navur.”
“Navur,” I repeat, tasting the name on my tongue for the first time. It rolls through my lips easily, like imported wine. “Okay, Navur, what are you doing here?”
“I think it’s fairly obvious,” the K says, dark eyes locked on me still. “I had you once, and found I wanted more. Imagine my surprise when I couldn’t find you in even the darkest corners of New York City. But it seems I’ve finally found you regardless, and here I am, ready to finish what we started.”
“We started nothing,” I say, keeping my tone as even as possible. “So there’s nothing to finish.”
“I beg to differ,” Navur insists, prodding at the limits of my temper.
“I don’t date Ks,” I say with finality, crossing my arms across my chest to punctuate the statement.
“No one dates Ks,” he clarifies with a chuckle. “I’m not offering roses and walks on the beach, Noelle.”
His fingers land on my knee and start trailing up my thigh. I glance back up at the driver but his eyes remain glued to the road. Even through my jeans, Navur’s touch burns a hot line along my skin. It’s pretty clear what he’s offering.
“I don’t want that, either,” I lie, shifting my leg away from his reach. I immediately feel cold in the absence of his touch, but this was already a lose-lose situation from the start. “Take me back to my car, please. I’m terribly late for work.”
The K contemplates my request for a moment, then nods at the chauffeur, and our aimless drive shifts back toward Broad Street.
“Alright,” Navur says, turning those hungry eyes back to me. “But I won’t be leaving town, Noelle. Not without what I came for.”
“Fine,” I snap, loosening the towel and leaving it on the seat I’m vacating. “Welcome to West Virginia, Navur. Better make yourself at home.”
I slam the door behind me, and slam the door to my own car for good measure, although the black towncar is already disappearing around the corner. At least the rain’s let up, I realize helplessly, as I start the drive back home and the reality of my situation starts to sink in.
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