Driven By Fate(23)

He welcomed the rush of dominance that hardened him from the inside out. If she didn’t know what she challenged by now, she was bloody well about to learn. And it was going to be quite satisfying to teach her. Telling him access to her body wasn’t allowed only made him anxious to prove her wrong.

“My rule only applies to your working hours and you’re not on my clock right now.” Porter moved his hand to her denim-clad thigh. “You will pick up exactly one more fare.” Slowly, he slid his touch up her thigh until he could grip her *. Squeeze it until she gasped. “Wherever we end up, I will be laying you flat on this seat, stripping you from the waist down and orgasming you with my tongue. I’ll wager you’ll buck like a wild horse, won’t you? One that badly needs to be broken.”

“I can’t…you can’t—”

“Do not finish that thought. When it comes to you, I can and will.” With one final tightening of his hold, he removed his hand. “One more fare, Francesca.”





Chapter Nine


Frankie’s breath came in quick, too-small gusts, as if through a straw. Driving came natural to her, but with Porter’s commanding presence in the cab, she had to concentrate on every turn of the wheel, every lane change. A pulse pounded between her legs, awakened to a new, frantic degree. With his attention fastened on her, she wanted to push out her breasts. Wanted to part her thighs in unspoken invitation for another touch. If she thought it wouldn’t bring on more trouble, her own hand would already be there, palming and using the denim seam to her advantage.

Focus. One more fare and then she could relinquish control of this situation. Logically, trusting him after such a short amount of time made her na?ve. But there was a drum beat in her stomach, an absolute conviction that he would handle everything. His arm draped over the back of her seat, his thumb pressed firmly to her collarbone, one single connection of their flesh that inspired a dark confidence in the man. He would follow through on his word and there would be no consequences, save the ones he doled out. Frankie’s nipples hardened at the thought. What would he do?

Focus.

“I certainly hope you’re not prolonging this journey, Francesca. My patience is wearing thinner than your T-shirt.”

She felt his gaze, hot and focused, on her breasts. “There’s a method to my madness. I’m looking for a fare that’ll take us out of Manhattan.”

“Where there is less chance of being seen,” he finished.

“Bingo.”

The thumb on her collarbone pressed harder. “In my experience, women often play games. Pretend they aren’t craving it as much as the man. You aren’t one of those women, are you?” His hand dropped to her breasts, cupping them in turn. “You’re in need of my cock and don’t mind me knowing.”

She swallowed hard. “Does that turn you off?”

“Not a goddamn thing about you turns me off.”

Two blocks ahead, a tall, well-muscled man in his early thirties, stepped out into the street holding massive shopping bags labeled FAO Schwarz. There was a vague familiarity about his harsh attractiveness, as though maybe she’d seen him around her neighborhood. He carried himself like a cop, too. Squared shoulders, unconcerned about inserting himself into whizzing traffic. Sharp eyes, too, but they were kind. A family man. Probably not a Manhattanite, for her money.

“There,” she murmured. With a final brush of her nipples, Porter removed his touch and she pulled the cab over. The car literally dipped as the man climbed into the backseat, he was so big. Shopping bags were placed carefully on the seat beside him, even as he analyzed Porter’s unusual presence in the passenger seat. Definitely a cop. Porter’s gaze was locked in the rearview, too, taking the man’s measure. She’d already suspected Porter had a background in law enforcement and this only confirmed it. Their expressions were almost carbon copies. Almost. Possessiveness radiated from Porter and wrapped around her like fog.

“Where are you headed?” Frankie asked, starting her meter.

“Middle Village.”

He rattled off an intersection that happened to be only five blocks from her house. Queens. She’d had a feeling. “You got it.” They were almost to the bridge before she sensed the man settling back against the seat. “Picking up some presents for the kids?”

His face softened in the rearview. “Yeah, I went a little overboard. My wife is going to kill me, but that just means it’s Tuesday.” The paper bags rustled as his laughter boomed. “I can’t seem to pass a toy store without dropping a mint, anymore. It’s really their fault for being so friggin’ cute.”

Frankie’s chest seized with envy. Someday she’d have kids to surprise with toys. Someday. She felt Porter watching her closely from the passenger seat and schooled her expression. “How many kids do you have?”

“Twin girls. Four months old.” He shook his head. “They’re crying, pooping, spewing machines and they’re still a dream come true.” A beat passed. “Speaking of girls, I think you might be my first cab driver of the female persuasion.”

“Hopefully I won’t be your last,” she said, thinking of her business. “I have a feeling you’ll see more of us on the road soon.”

His silence was thoughtful. “My wife and sister love their nights out. I hate them. Mostly because of the trip back. I’d feel a lot better knowing you were driving them home.”