Perfect Gravity (Wanted and Wired #2)(55)
Great. She had to spell it out. “Woo? You know, poems and flowers and…wooing? Look, in the elevator, you told me I needed to woo you. But then you went into self-preservation mode—no judgment here; I understand—and I was at a temporary loss. I started thinking about your objections and what you need from me at this point in your life, and I determined that, well, there’s precious little. I’m not used to being useless, but you have ordered your world perfectly to suit yourself, and about the only thing I can offer is this: an impetus to read really shitty poetry that you hate.” Angela sucked in her bottom lip and held it untrembling between her teeth. Well, now at least he knew.
“You think forcing me outside the boundaries of a well-ordered life is gonna make me want to kiss you till neither of us can breathe?”
It wasn’t like breathing was especially easy right now. But whatever. “Yes, exactly that, and please do feel free, if the need strikes. I’m pushy. Bossy, I think is the term you used the day we first met. I haven’t changed all that much, in case you hadn’t gathered. But I think you, specifically you, need to be bossed sometimes. So you don’t get too comfortable, so you don’t forget.”
He was quiet for a long time, sizing her up with those liquid-crystal eyes. “I called you boss, not bossy. And I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your darknet message,” he said. “I knew what it was, what you were telling me to do. I just couldn’t trust.”
“Me?”
“Nah, sweetheart. Couldn’t trust myself.” He half smiled, ruefully, and shook his head. “Also yeah, maybe there was a little bit of doubtin’ you, too. You’re a hard person to read sometimes, especially that public persona you tend.”
She needed to stop biting her lip. It hurt. Instead she shrugged. “No worries. Mech-Daniel evaluated the situation, determined that I would perform better if I thought you”—still loved me—“had replied, and initiated a series of false replies in your place.”
“Am sorry for that, too.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “It was a brilliant solution on his part. Thinking that you were there in my com somehow, flirting at me, I killed it that night. Even the trillionaires were impressed enough to donate to Zeke’s campaign.”
“Fundraising was your aim in going there?”
“Fundraising is always an aim,” she said. “But this was fundraising on an entirely different level. Trillionaires, right. If you want a shitload of money poured into an undisclosed, scantily monitored fund, you want Ofelia Ortega y Mars de la Madrid’s attention.”
He frowned. “That fund was for the president’s campaign?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he do with that kind of money with only nine days left before the election?”
Angela opened her mouth to reply but then shut it. She didn’t have a strong guess and certainly not an answer. Sure, campaign war chests were always a thing, always needed filling. But on the other hand, Kellen was sort of right. The main media push had already been over by the time Angela had attended La Mars Madrid’s party.
She let her head fall back against the seat. “I suck at wooing, don’t I?”
“Maybe a little bit,” he replied gently, but with a hint of laughter tucked deep in his voice. “I mean, Wordsworth? That was your play? And twice now, too.”
He made a tsk sound in his throat, and Angela couldn’t peel her gaze from the peek of his tongue behind his teeth when he did it. The sun-bronzed line of his neck, now limned in the blue light from the car’s instrument panels. The easy movement of his body. Though granted, it wasn’t moving a whole lot right now. He was watching her, a slight, almost mysterious smile pulling at his mouth. Just on the left side. Like he knew a secret and wasn’t telling.
Fuck. How had she ever thought she could make this trip, with him, in this car, and keep her distance? She had promised herself, though, and she was holding steady. Just.
“Now, about those four words,” he drawled.
Chapter 10
“Um, the words. Right.” Her perfect memory whirred, replaying their whole conversation so far, all of it. It took her a while, but she finally caught the thread and recited it: “I wish to fuck that…”
“Back up,” he interrupted. “Just four.”
“I wish to fuck?”
“Them’s the ones.” He held her gaze but didn’t so much as twitch in her general direction. The space between them crackled with potential energy. “Do you?”
Did she…wish to fuck?
Yes, oh God yes. Holy batfuck yes. Every nerve in her body went live, and she struggled to contain a shudder. No use, though. She nodded, scuffing her hairpiece against the seatback.
“Yes,” she said, not surprised her voice came out on a whisper. “But here’s the problem. I promised myself I wouldn’t paw you without permission on this trip. I want you to know I don’t think you’re easy or easily taken advantage of. I want you to know that I myself have dealt with…”
He was panther-silent and just that fast across the console, framing her face in his big hands, pressing his mouth to hers, warmth to warmth, creating a point of white-hot synchrony. She was too startled even to open her lips. His kiss was impossibly sweet.