Compromising Kessen (Vandenbrook #1)(34)

Christian turned back toward the road with both hands firmly clenching the wheel. “Perhaps I won’t look at you, but you can talk. I’m sure I could handle it.” He turned quickly to wink at her, though she could tell his confidence was better when he was actually watching where he was going.

“I think we should date.”

Christian swerved; she screamed and covered her eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, throwing her an apologetic grin. “You were saying?”

She exhaled loudly before continuing. “I was saying, before you nearly killed us, that we should date. After all, we are getting married. And people who date, well, they…”

“Touch?” Christian choked.

Kessen put a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” His throat sounded raspy.

“Are you sure? You sound like you’re in pain.”

“May God have mercy on my soul,” he whispered.

“What?” she asked, confused. Why was he talking about God? She knew the Vandenbrooks were fiercely religious, which is probably why she was so attracted to the books in the first place. They were known for being terrible flirts but never crossing any lines with the women they seduced. No, the line-crossing always happened after they were married. All bets were off then. She wondered if that’s what Christian meant earlier when— “You were saying?” he interrupted, voice clear and normal.

“I just think since we’re going to be married, we should at least try to date like normal people, even if it is only for seven days.”

He nodded his head. “I think you’re right, though I loathe putting your name and being correct in the same sentence.”

“Get used to it.”

He chuckled. “That, my dear, will never happen.”

“It’s always easier when you don’t fight it.”

“You’re telling me,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry.” She turned towards him. “Are we having the same conversation?”

“Of course,” he stuttered.

She glared at him, hoping he could feel the intense burn of her gaze. If he did, he didn’t show it. Instead he seemed oddly more focused on the road than ever. Pity.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” he said, turning towards her. Was it possible for a man to get more attractive by the second? He seemed to be having his own private conversation with himself, and his eyes did not look friendly; they looked fierce.

“Okay, um, well…” She crossed her arms over her chest and faced toward the front of the car again. All she could hear was the heavy beating of her own heart. She silently prayed Christian couldn’t hear it as well. But he seemed to be so busy concentrating on the road, she doubted he could think of anything else except for speed limits and stop signs.

He looked annoyed.

But then again she could be assuming things; maybe he was concentrating on the road. After all, he’d proven his inability to multi-task countless times. She was surprised he hadn’t gotten a ticket yet.

Maybe they were more lenient in Europe?

She took a sip of water and stole another quick glance in his direction. It was hard to ignore how built he was, yet she had never seen him work out. Then again, it wasn’t as if they had been living together; how would she even know?

Her gaze traced down the curve of his triceps and ended at his clenched hands. He truly did take this whole driving thing seriously.

****

Christian felt like he would snap any second.

He was tightly wound, and unfortunately, the reason for his stress was sitting next to him dozing off. She was falling asleep!

How did a person fall asleep at a time like this?

The tension could have been cut with a knife, and she was closing her eyes! Oh, how he wished he could close his eyes and push out the images of her body pressed against his.

One would think that after kissing her on numerous occasions, the desire would fade, but it did nothing but fan the flame. It took every brain cell in his possession to stay focused on the road instead of her.

He turned on the air conditioner, hoping to wake himself from his sensual state. He suddenly realized the error of his ways when the scent of musky perfume floated through the car. Christian contemplated not breathing, but decided death was probably a little extreme at this point.

The perfume was toxic to his body, making him think thoughts he shouldn’t be entertaining. He looked at Kessen and relaxed a bit. At least her eyes weren’t open. He didn’t know how to control himself when she was looking at him the way she so often did.

They would be at his country home within a few minutes. It was getting late; he needed a good night’s sleep and a shot of something strong.

By the time he pulled into the driveway of his house, he had mentally counted every tie in his closet, and recited Job 31:3 (which was the only verse his parents shoved down his throat at a young age); it talked about lusting after things of the flesh, which he thought fit the situation perfectly.

Maybe if he remembered what Job had to go through, he would be able to stop thinking about Kessen. It didn’t work, because somehow in the midst of reciting Job he got to thinking about books, then about how she read the books about his family. He wondered if she wished the two of them could be in a book, and what would happen in such a book if they were in it together … alone.