Page 65 of Wicked Heat

A man who’s definitely not the safe and stable port that I need after all the shit I’ve been through.

And there it is—the reason why I’m certain that Fate is one cruel bitch. Because the first man I’m truly attracted to is a man I shouldn’t let anywhere near my heart.

Twenty

As advertised, the car is one hell of a sweet ride, especially once we’re out of the city and the highway opens up. “Too fast for you?” Ashton asks an hour or so later as he kicks the speed up over a hundred and ten.

I laugh and shake my head. “For me, no. For the highway patrol? Maybe.”

“A woman who likes a fast car. I approve.”

I give him that look. “Lots of women like fast cars. But if you really approve, you should let me drive. I bet I could give you a run for your money.”

He takes his eyes off the road long enough to glance my way, and though our eyes meet only for a second, what I see there has my pulse racing as fast as that speedometer.

“I think you definitely could,” he says. But I’m no longer sure he’s talking about driving.

I take a sip of the coffee I’ve been nursing as a noisy silence hangs between us. A silence in which I hear his voice in my memory: I will own you. I will kiss you, tease you, touch you. When I want. How I want.

“Recline your seat,” he orders, his tone as low as that voice in my head.

“It reclines? Isn’t this a race car?”

“I mentioned modifications. That’s one.” He looks at me just long enough to offer a cool smile. “I want my passengers to be comfortable.” He pauses, his eyes still on me as we fly down the freeway. “Recline your seat.”

There’s both heat and command in his tone, and I consider arguing again, but it would be only for show. I made a deal, after all, and this is the price for my three million dollars.

More, I want to.

I want the feel of his fingers on my skin. I want to be awake and aware and aroused.

I want to know that I can handle it.

Most of all, I want to like it.

With Ash, I know that I will.

“Eager,” Ash says, once the seat is all the way back, and it’s only then that I realize that I’ve uncrossed my legs. And parted my knees.

I fight the urge to slam them back together, reminding myself that this is safe. This is a deal that I made. That if I say stop, he will. That I have just as much power as he does.

So instead of closing my knees like a vise, I spread them even further. I turn my head as I do and catch him looking at me. I say nothing, but we both know that the way I hold his gaze is the silent equivalent of yes.

Because I am eager, and I’d be a fool to think I could hide that from him.

He puts his hand on my knee, then slowly teases the silky material of Nikki’s dress up my thigh. The brush of material against skin is wildly sensual, but it’s not what I want. He’s touching me through the material, and while that leaves a modicum of safety, it’s not safety I crave. Not now. Not while we’re flying down the highway with his fingers creeping up my thigh.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“But then I’ll miss the view.”

He chuckles. Interstate 15 is not known for its view. “Close your eyes. Keep them closed.”

This time, I obey without objection. There’s no point in protesting. Ashton Stone isn’t a fool, and there’s no way I can hide my desire. My nipples are hard against the stretchy bodice. And if he ever finishes what he’s started, I know he’ll find me wet.

I want that. Hell, I crave it. The knowledge that I made this happen. That I’m not being forced. I agreed to these terms, and this journey is as much about what I want as about him. It’s exciting. It’s freeing.

And, so far, at least, the way his fingertips gently caress my skin isn’t even remotely terrifying.