Page 85 of Mile High Ruin

Of course women want him. He’s rich enough to buy buildings for fun, powerful enough that armed men appear when he calls, and attractive enough that I made out with him in an airplane restroom after knowing him for several hours.

He also kisses like he has had a great deal of practice.

The thought bothers me immediately.

I pull back.

Vadim follows for half a second before stopping. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That was not nothing.”

“I was thinking.”

“That tends to cause trouble.”

I glare at him.

Then the car turns, my shoulder brushes the window, and for the first time since we got inside, I properly register the outside world.

The partition between the front and back seats is not closed.

Marek is driving.

Marek.

Who can absolutely hear us, our moans, every shared breath. Every embarrassing little sound I have made while Vadim has been mauling my neck like he has a personal grudge against it.

I go completely still.

Vadim notices immediately. “What now?”

I stare past him toward the front. Marek’s hands are on the steering wheel. His head is facing forward. That doesn’t mean anything, but it still causes tiny little itches all over my body.

I pull back further, and Vadim lets me, though his hand remains at my waist.

“What are you doing?”

“He can hear us.”

Vadim glances toward the front. “Marek?”

“Yes, Marek.”

“So?”

I stare at him. “So?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“He’s driving.”

“That’s precisely the problem.”

Vadim looks genuinely confused. “He has heard worse.”