Driven By Fate(38)

“You make me ache.”

Her nipples beaded in response to his abrasive tone. “The ache is mutual.”

He crooked his finger at her with one hand, gripped his erection with the other. “Come over here. Let me fill you right up. I’ll even let you rock nice and slow the first time.”

Warmth gathered between her legs. “What about the second time?”

“Ah, I think you know.” He unbuttoned his pants and drew down the zipper. “Don’t worry about that now, though. Come see how easy I’ll let you ride it. Dangle those legs on either side of me, give them room to shake as much as they want.” A growl rippled from his throat. “You’ll wail and complain in my ear. Please, my lord. Please. More. So I’ll make you bounce a little, maybe press down on your ass so I can hit your clit just right. Mmmm. Give you what that body needs. Don’t you want that?”

Frankie’s entire being was engulfed in flames. Her pulse had grown erratic, her breathing choppy. She could feel slick moisture coating her most sensitive flesh. If she weren’t full of the stubbornness that ran in her family, she would be across the room and impaled on his lap in seconds. But she did have the gene, and it kept her out of reach as she circled the bed. He’d taken away her pride in that room at Serve. This is how she would get it back.

A thunderclap illuminated the dim bedroom, making his expression dangerous. Then the light receded and he’d gone back to normal. If normal meant wickedly aroused. Focus, girl. This was her chance to find out more about him, his past, without the imminent threat of him pouncing and overwhelming her.

“So now you know how I came by the scars on my knees.” She trailed a single finger over the bottom rail of her bed. “How did you get the ones on your chest?”

“Shrapnel. Flying debris.” His jaw flexed, gaze focused on her finger. “I can’t tell you the particulars, but suffice it to say I was on a security job. The man I’d been charged to protect had become a target. The accomplice planted the bomb with the intent to take him out. It didn’t.”

His precisely delivered explanation made something hard stick in her throat. How close had he come to being a victim? Why was she so scared? It was over. Done. For now. “Will you be in those situations again when you leave New York?”

He searched her eyes. “It’s likely, yes.”

“Don’t be such an optimist,” she joked, even though she felt like shouting, or bashing him with a pillow. What if he didn’t get so lucky next time? And why did it matter so much to her? She’d never see him again once this ended or he left, whichever came first. “It’s too bad antique dealing isn’t exciting enough for you. You’re not half bad at it.”

His lips twitched. “You know this from spending exactly one day in my office?”

She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I might have taken a peek at the files while you were pretending to ignore me.”

“Picked up on that, did you?” His voice was dry. Apparently realizing his attempt at seducing her into bed had failed for now, he let out his trademark long-suffering sigh. “I don’t hate the antique business, but it’s a bloody boring affair. Men getting their knickers twisted over blasted armoires and serving trays. Most of the time they end up stuffing their acquisition into a dark room and locking the door until they want to sell it again.”

“In other words, at least being blown up is exciting.” She heard the sarcasm in her tone and shut it down. “Also, I think that’s the longest I’ve ever heard you talk without saying something filthy.”

“Come closer.” His gaze heated, scorching her skin. “Let me remedy that.”

Just a little longer. “So you don’t mind the business, it’s the people that ruin it?”

“Usually. They’re very different from your customers.”

“You know this from spending exactly one day in my cab?” she said, returning his earlier words in a teasing British accent.

He fought a grin and won. “Not everyone is so lucky to be passionate about their job. Not like you.” His expression grew thoughtful, but lost none of its intensity. “Now that you have your business plan, what’s the next step?”

She ran her palms down the front of the nightgown, pausing when his eyes darkened. “Um. Friday afternoon, I have my final presentation in the Business Management program. After that, I was planning on pitching the idea to my uncle and his friends. Making us all equal partners.” An image of her uncle hunched over the kitchen table swam through her mind. “But I’m not sure now is the right time.”

“Sure it is.” His eyebrows drew together as he sat forward. “Has something changed?”

Thunder boomed outside her window, shaking the glass pane. “Yes.” Not for the first time, she marveled over her propensity to be honest with him. “I just found out my uncle hasn’t been working. The doctor says he’s dealing with pretty severe Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.” She swallowed. “Most of the start-up capital I had saved is going toward the mortgage and bills.”

“Francesca.” The warning in his voice made her shiver. “You will tell me what you need.”

“Oh no. Nuh-uh.” She crossed her arms over her middle. “You’re already paying me a ridiculous amount to work for you. I’m not taking donations on top of it.”