The mirror didn’t show his face and suddenly I wanted to see it. Wanted to know what his scarred features looked like when he was turned on and whether those intense blue eyes were still full of heat and not just lightning.
With a hand that shook only slightly, I reached up to adjust the mirror so I could see. Then froze as his gaze clashed with mine.
Electricity sizzled through me and this time there was no static to blame.
It was all him.
‘The light is green, Miss Little,’ he said in his deep, rough voice.
And it took me at least five seconds to process what he was saying. And then I did.
Oh, crap.
My face burned and I wrenched my gaze away, pressing my foot down hard on the accelerator. Too hard. Much to my shame the car bunny-hopped a couple of times before I managed to bring it under control again. I stuttered an apology, keeping my attention resolutely forward this time.
He didn’t answer, but I was just about combusting with embarrassment, angry with myself for staring when I knew I shouldn’t, and also at my own reaction. At the pulsing, insistent ache between my thighs.
I didn’t understand it. Australis’s continued existence was on the line and here I was, letting some stupid sex stuff distract me. And now he’d caught me watching him...
He’ll probably fire you.
Shit. The thought made my palms even more sweaty.
I tried to dismiss it, plaster my smile in place, get back into a more professional space, but I was still blushing furiously by the time I pulled the car up outside Mr Evans’s hotel.
‘Stay there, Miss Little,’ he growled as I reached to undo my seat belt.
Oh, great.
He said something to the woman that I didn’t catch, but I didn’t dare look this time to see what was going on.
Instead I waited, staring out of the widow, listening to the rear door open and then close with a thunk.
There was a long silence.
Eventually, I had to glance in the mirror, because the suspense was killing me.
The blonde had gone, but Mr Evans hadn’t.
He was still sitting in the back seat.
And he was staring straight at me.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ash
I HAD NO idea what Miss Ellie Little was playing at, but one thing I did know: she needed to stop.
Because I was finding that having my fresh-faced chauffeur steal little glances in the rear-view mirror, watching me while the blonde stroked my cock through my jeans, was surprisingly erotic. And that if she kept on doing it, she was going to find herself spread out on the back seat of the limo, naked, with me on top of her.
Which obviously could not happen.
I should be thinking about screwing my beautiful blonde friend instead, because she was sexy and experienced and definitely not working for me. Unlike Miss Little.
Which meant I should not be thinking about Miss Little’s sneaky glances in the mirror, watching us from her place in the driver’s seat, her gaze darkening as she realised what was happening. Colour flooding her clear skin, making her freckles stand out, and her lush red mouth open.
Or thinking about how watching the blonde and me was turning her on.
Or about the realisation that it wasn’t so much what the blonde was doing to me that was making me hard as it was Ellie’s reaction.
It was obvious she didn’t want to look and yet hadn’t been able to help herself, and I liked that very much.
Too much.
I’d got under her insufferably chirpy skin, flustered her; made her blush. And I found that incredibly satisfying, especially after she’d steadfastly refused to show any reaction to me or my temper.
Except there’s nothing you can do about it.
Irritation gnawed at me. Even though she was only driving for me temporarily, she was still an employee and that was a line I never crossed.
And it irritated me still further that the thought she was forbidden only made me harder, perverse bastard that I was.
The lights from outside illuminated Ellie’s face in the mirror and the deep blush still burning in her cheeks. I could even see the scattering of freckles across her nose. She was clearly embarrassed yet she didn’t look away. ‘Uh, so I guess I’m fired now, right?’ she said, that cheerful smile trying to make an appearance again, though it wasn’t as confident as it had been before. ‘Perving at the clients isn’t exactly a good look, I know, but—’
‘Want to tell me why you were staring at my dick?’ I demanded, not letting her finish, impatient with the attraction that burned in my blood and with the hard-on in my jeans that refused to subside no matter how unwanted it was.
Her smile faltered, green sparks of irritation flickering to life in her hazel eyes, and that didn’t help. Because I did not need further signs that I was getting to her. Not given the state I was in.
‘To be fair, I could hardly not stare at your dick,’ she pointed out. ‘Especially when it was in my face every time I had to check my rear-view mirror.’ She tried again with the smile, though it was even less convincing this time. ‘And hey, if you really didn’t want me to see, you should have put the partition up.’
She might have been trying to make a joke of it, but I heard the note of challenge in her husky voice and it hit me like a shot of adrenaline, making my cock even harder than it was already.
Fuck, she had guts confronting me like that.
Respect stirred inside me even as my anger deepened, mostly at myself for not simply getting out of the car and going after the blonde, whom I could at least have in my bed without all these moral quandaries.
And it didn’t help that she was right. I should have put the partition up. But I hadn’t. Because I liked her watching.
My jaw ached, tension crawling through my shoulders.
I’d come out of the club so pleased with myself, because my meeting with Delaney had gone extremely well. My price for the islands was significantly more than what Dumont had offered him and he’d been into the idea. Though not without a few unexpected caveats.
The islands had been in his family for years and he had a certain sentimental attachment to them, going on to tell me that he’d hoped to sell them to someone who was family-minded, too.
I wasn’t family-minded in the slightest, but to get those islands away from Dumont, I could pretend, so I’d muttered some nonsense about a girlfriend and how we were looking to get serious. Delaney had been surprised, but very positive, and told me he’d be in touch in a couple of days, likely with good news.
It had all been very satisfying. As had been the prospect of a couple of hours’ pleasure with the blonde.
But not now. Now the thought of the blonde left me cold.
Get out of the car, you stupid bastard.
I should get out of the car. Not sit here, hard and annoyed because I wanted a woman I shouldn’t touch.
But I didn’t.
And she was still looking at me in the rear-view mirror, gold glowing through the green in her eyes, like the sun through leaves on a hot summer’s day. Making me realise that I was cold and had been for quite some time.
Except the gold in her eyes now was different from the sunny cheerfulness of before. There was a smoky heat to it that was definitely not forced.
Where there’s heat, there’s fire.
Oh, yes, I could see hints of that fire now, glowing embers in her gaze that wouldn’t take much to ignite...
‘You shouldn’t look at me like that.’ My voice was rough and harsh in the dense silence of the car. ‘Not if you’re not ready to face the consequences.’
‘What consequences?’ Her hands were curled around the steering wheel, making me think of how it might feel to have those delicate fingers wrapped around my cock.
Did she really have
no idea? Could she not feel this tension between us? Static, she’d said back at the hotel, a response that had seemed genuine. Which meant she was probably inexperienced.
Yet another reason for me to get the fuck out of the car and not sit here like a bloody fool, staring into her pretty gold eyes.
‘What consequences do you think?’ I snapped, my temper getting a mean edge. ‘I don’t want to fire you, Miss Little. I want to fuck you.’
Shock flickered over her face. ‘What?’
‘Don’t act so surprised. Did you really think those little glances you kept stealing wouldn’t get me as hard as a rock?’
She blinked rapidly. ‘Uh... Are you sure you’re not talking about the blonde chick? I mean, she was the one who had her hand on...um...you.’
Was she serious? Or was she playing with me? Some women liked that kind of game, but I didn’t. I preferred straight-up honesty, especially when it came to sex.
However, there was no doubting the surprise in Ellie’s eyes: she really had thought it was the blonde.
‘No, I’m not talking about the “blonde chick”,’ I said, increasingly annoyed at the hard-on in my jeans and my apparent inability to get the fuck out of the car and away from her. ‘You kept looking at me like you wanted to join in.’
Her cheeks turned an even deeper red. ‘I didn’t want to join in.’
‘No? Then why did you keep staring?’
‘I...’ She looked away. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. That wasn’t very professional.’
‘Screw being professional. Just answer the bloody question. And look at me when I’m talking to you.’
She stiffened then abruptly twisted around in her seat so she was facing me, the dusting of freckles across her nose even more fascinating close up without the distancing effect of the mirror.
Gone was the cheerful smile. Green sparks of anger danced in her eyes instead and they were every bit as interesting as her freckles.
‘Look, you’re being a bit bloody rude,’ she said flatly. ‘I’d heard of your reputation, but seriously, mate, you need to tone it down. I’m just doing my job.’
Mate? She’d really just called me ‘mate’?
This pretty little thing in her chauffeur’s cap, who didn’t know what the hell she was getting into, thought she could talk to me like that? Because if so, she really did have no idea what she was doing.
I was a man who liked a fight, who was all about the challenge. And if that challenge was a pretty woman I could get down and dirty and sweaty and raw with? Who I could take apart with pleasure, make her beg, make her want all kinds of filthy things?
Fuck, yes.
Which made me too much for this sweet-faced girl, no matter how badly she called to the warrior in me.
The blonde would have been able to handle me. The blonde knew what she was getting into.
You don’t want the blonde.
And that was the problem. I didn’t.
‘Say that again, and there will be consequences.’ I didn’t disguise the naked threat in my voice. It was explicit.
She didn’t appear to hear it. ‘So you keep saying. What exactly are these consequences, then?’
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘If you’re too bloody afraid to say them out loud then maybe you shouldn’t go throwing vague threats around.’ Gold glittered briefly in her eyes. ‘Mate.’
If that wasn’t a gauntlet thrown down, I didn’t know what was.
Exhilaration pulsed through me and I leaned forward, getting in her face, giving her a taste of what it would be like to tangle with me and enjoying the way her breath caught in response.
‘You’re a pretty thing, Miss Little. And pretty things shouldn’t mess with men like me.’
‘Pretty thing?’ she echoed, incredulous. ‘Dude, seriously?’
‘You’re pretty and you’re a little thing.’ I leaned forward even more, getting closer. ‘And I eat pretty little things for breakfast.’
We were almost nose to nose, but she didn’t move away or back down. She was so close. Close enough for me to see the fine grain of her skin and the sparks of gold and green glowing in her eyes. To feel the heat of her body and smell the warm, musky scent of her.
Her pulse beat fast at the base of her throat and her mouth looked soft and kissable. Fuckable, too.
‘That’s not at all patronising.’ She glared at me. ‘How would you like it if I called you...big dick or something?’
Oh, yes, I was getting to her. I very definitely was.
Desire spiked in my blood, a hot, raw feeling. ‘I’d like it just fine,’ I said roughly, trying to resist the urge to grab her hand, draw it over my fly and hold it down so she could feel how big I actually was.
She went scarlet and I didn’t miss the way her gaze dropped to my groin, where my cock was pressing hard against the denim. ‘Of course you would,’ she muttered. ‘But firstly, I’m not pretty or a thing. And secondly, you’re not...uh...’ She stopped.
‘Big?’ I finished. ‘Are you sure about that?’
Her hazel gaze flicked up, the fire I’d sensed in her beginning to ignite. ‘What? You want me to check?’ She sounded defiant and angry, yet the heat in her eyes told a different story.
I went very still. ‘Be careful what you ask for, Miss Little. Because you might just get it.’
She stared at me, no trace of that sunny smile evident now. ‘You think I can’t handle you?’
‘I know you can’t handle me.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Heat flared in her eyes. ‘Try me.’
I shouldn’t have goaded her, because I knew what her reaction would be. And I knew myself. I knew what I liked. And the fact that she was responding without fear, without being intimidated by me...
Christ, it was the biggest turn-on I’d had in years.
I wanted to see what she would do, whether she’d rise to the challenge. Whether I could get under her skin as deeply as she was getting under mine.
‘You want to touch me?’ I said it out loud so there could be no mistake. ‘You want to feel me for yourself?’
She didn’t blink this time. Not once. ‘Yes.’
The word was thick and breathed out, making my fucking cock ache, and I had to grit my teeth against the intense rush of desire.
‘Give me your hand, then.’ I tried not to make it an order.
Without hesitation, she held out her hand and I took it. Her palm was small, her fingers delicate, her skin very soft. Electricity bolted the length of my arm, a direct line straight to my dick.
And she must have felt it, too, because her breath caught, her eyes widening. But she didn’t pull away. If anything, her chin lifted higher.
So I slowly drew her hand to where I wanted it, over the front of my jeans, holding her gaze all the while. And she never once looked away, the fire in her eyes burning brighter, hotter.
I held her palm down, letting her feel how hard I was. Letting the heat of her hand seep through the fabric and into me.
Her pretty mouth became a perfect O of surprise as her fingers closed over my aching hard-on. Then, finally, she looked down. ‘Oh...uh...wow.’
I wasn’t sixteen any more. I didn’t need a woman to look in awe at my cock. So why I felt such pleasure at her reaction I had no idea and, like so many of my interactions with this fascinating woman, it irritated the hell out of me, even as it turned me on.
‘I did tell you,’ I bit out, my voice much rougher than it should have been.
The flush in her cheeks showed no sign of abating. ‘Sorry, that sounded dumb. But seriously...’ Her gaze rose to mine, searching. ‘Does that...uh...feel good? When I touch you, I mean?’
I should have stopped her. I should have taken her hand off me and got out of the car. Because I was crossing a line here and I knew it.
But I didn’t do either of those things.
‘Yes.’ I held her fascinated gaze. ‘It feels fucking good.’
Her mouth curved, as if she was pleased with the news. Then she bit her lower lip, her fingers moving hesitantly over me, tracing the line of my dick through the denim, watching my face intently as she did so.
I’d never been looked at like that before, not even when I’d been street fighting and an opponent was sizing me up. Sex for me was usually about making my partner come and come hard, that was how I got off. They generally didn’t pay me the same attention, mainly because I refused to let them.
So I didn’t know why I was letting her now. But, Christ, it was good. Too good. My muscles went tight, my jaw aching.
‘Wow,’ she murmured for the second time. ‘You’re really hot. Like an engine.’
An engine? What the hell?
But then her fingers spread out and she gave me an experimental squeeze, and all thoughts vanished from my head as a wave of pleasure rolled over me.
‘Fuck,’ I muttered hoarsely, my hands closing into fists to stop myself from reaching for her.
A crease deepened between her silky dark brows. ‘Sorry. Was that too hard?’
‘No.’ I could barely get the word out. ‘But you’re done.’
My control was good but it wasn’t limitless.
‘Oh?’ She frowned. ‘But I haven’t finished checking.’
I glowered, my prick throbbing, lust firing in my blood, my temper in no way helped by the firmness of her grip. ‘Yes, you have. I suggest you take your hand off me now, Miss Little. I’m not made of fucking stone.’
There was an intensity in her stare now, as if she was weighing something up in her head, and she didn’t take her hand away, the heat of her palm destroying me second by tantalising second. ‘Are you sure? I mean... I could do something about it, if you like.’
Oh, Christ.
There were so many fucking reasons not to. She was my employee and I didn’t want to cross that line as my bastard father had with my mother. She was also inexperienced and in no way ready to handle what I wanted from her.
Then again, it had been a long time since I’d been with a woman I’d actually wanted because of who she was and not because of what she represented. A long time since I’d been with a woman who looked at me the way Ellie Little was looking at me, as if she saw the dirty street fighter that still lurked inside me and wasn’t afraid.
The Debt Page 4
