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I sit down on the bench, glancing up at him as I grab my boots. “It’s my day off.” I eye his suit. “Isn’t it your day off too?”
He looks down at his suit. “Old habits die hard.”
“They certainly do.” I’m just glad it’s not his new suit that Magnus bought him, because those pants are pretty tight and they leave nothing to the imagination. As in, you can’t help but stare at his crotch, and since I happen to know how well-endowed he is, it’s an extra tease.
Again, probably done on purpose.
“You’re going to visit your grandmother?”
I pull on my boots. “Yup.”
“Can I come?”
I pause, eyes widening. “Why? To see my grandmother?”
“Sure, why not?”
Is he serious? “Why not?” I repeat. “Because I don’t want you there?”
I don’t mean to be so blunt with him, but I can’t help it.
“Oh,” he says.
Shit. Now I feel bad.
“Look,” I say, zipping up my boots and getting to my feet. “It’s not a good idea for my grandmother to meet new people. It’s overwhelming. She’ll probably end up thinking you’re her late husband. Sometimes she thinks I’m my mother, and…well, that feels like a kick in the chest.”
“Totally understandable,” he says. “Forget I said anything. Didn’t mean any harm by it.”
He turns to walk off, and I hate how torn this man is making me feel, how I’m angry at him one second for pleasuring himself loudly enough for me to hear, then guilty the next because it also seems like he’s trying to be nice.
“Wait,” I call after him, grabbing my coat from the rack.
He looks at me over his shoulder.
“Why don’t you come with me? You know, downtown. Olaf drives me. He’d be happy to give you a lift too. We can meet up after.”
James faces me with a wary expression. “You sure about that? I don’t want to step on any toes.”
“I’m sure,” I tell him as I zip up the coat. I think.
Then he grins at me, and damn it if I don’t get a little winded at the sight of how gorgeous he is. He strides over to me, grabbing his long wool peacoat and slipping on his boots, and we step outside on the porch.
Olaf, ever punctual, is already in the car, the engine running.
“Did you grab any breakfast?” James asks me as we head down the steps and into the sunshine, the snow sparkling so brightly I have to fish my sunglasses out of my purse.
I shake my head, slipping them on. “No. I usually get a cake for my grandmother, so I save myself for that.”
I reach for the door, but James is fast and opens it for me.
“After you,” he says.
I give him a quick smile, trying not to be fooled by any gallantry, and slide on in. I say hello to Olaf, a super old fellow who has worked for the royal family his whole life. He used to be the king’s butler but now is the chauffeur for anyone who needs it. He doesn’t hear the best, but he drives well and is always humming to himself happily.
I expect James to get in the front seat with him, but he slides right into the back seat next to me. This is just a black VW, so there’s not a lot of room back here, especially when you consider I’m tall and rather large-boned, with wide hips and a big ass, and he’s even taller and even larger-boned. Our shoulders are close to touching.
I angle my face away, putting my attention to the window as the car drives off. I hate how the smell of him seems to sink into my bones, so easily igniting the heat between my legs. I close my eyes, and my mind automatically starts playing back the sounds from this morning, that low, rich moan of pleasure.
