Torn (Billionaire Bachelors Club #2)(28)

“Boy Toy?” He raises a brow, stopping just in front of me. His full lips are curved into a secretive smile and a rush of memories floods me. How those lips feel on mine. How excellent he is with his hands. The smell of his skin, the way his soft hair curls around my fingers . . .

“I’ve upgraded your nickname. Thought Rat Boy was a little rude,” Gina explains.

His expression goes solemn, though his lips twitch. “I appreciate that.”

“Well, you two best be moving along. You’ve kept Marina here waiting long enough.” She pushes the both of us, hurrying us out of the kitchen. I grab my purse from where I left it beneath the front counter, slinging it over my shoulder as I watch Gina bustle around the café, checking everything before locking up. “You two have fun tonight, all right?”

“Need any help?” I ask, keeping my voice low when I grab hold of her elbow before she can escape me again.

She flashes me a smile. “I’ve got this, sweetheart. You go have fun.”

I release my hold on her, rolling my eyes as I turn to Gage. He’s watching me; his gaze sweeps over me, slow and easy, and just like that arousal trickles through my blood, heating my skin. My aunt is forgotten, the bakery, everything else, and it’s just me and him, standing in front of the door, the spot where just last night he had me pressed against the cold glass while he kissed me senseless.

“So I’m your Boy Toy?” he asks, his voice a husky murmur that sends chills down my spine.

“If the shoe fits,” I tease, pleased when he opens the door for me like a gentleman should. He has manners. This is a plus.

“I have no problem with it,” he teases back, his eyes twinkling. “I know you weren’t complaining last night.”

Glaring at him, I tilt my head to my thankfully still oblivious aunt. “Keep your voice down.”

His expression switches to serious. “Sorry. Forgot myself.”

I understand. I think we both forget ourselves when we’re in each other’s presence. Easy to do, considering the obvious chemistry sparkling between us.

This is going to be a long night.

Gage

SHE’S SO FUCKING gorgeous I can’t get over it. All that long, tumbling blonde hair caught up in a high ponytail, showing off the pretty, irresistible curve of her neck. The neck I licked and nibbled last night, making her groan with pleasure, her hands clutching me tight . . .

Blowing out a harsh breath, I lead her outside toward where my car is parked at the curb. She stops short when she sees it, her wide-eyed gaze meeting mine. “That’s your car?”

I nod, hitting the keyless remote in my hand so the doors unlock. “Yeah, that’s my baby.” I open the door to my newest purchase—a sleek, pearl-white Maserati Ghibli—and as I guide her into her seat, I can’t help but like the way she looks settled inside my car.

I like the way she looks everywhere, as long as she’s with me, if I’m being truthful.

What the ever-loving f**k?

Yeah. I’ve lost my mind. One night with a woman and I’m addicted. I think I want her even more because she’s so damn indifferent.

“Your baby?” she asks me pointedly when I slide into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel. “This is a Ghibli.”

Okay. I’m f**king impressed. Most women don’t give a shit about cars. Or they’ll be able to recognize a brand but not the model. “You’re right. I have a thing for cars. I like to collect them,” I admit, starting the vehicle. It roars to life, the engine purring a low, sexy rumble that seems to vibrate throughout the entire interior.

I wonder if Marina would let me bang her in the back seat. That would make this a more than memorable date.

“I love Maserati. My dad has owned a few himself. He used to collect cars,” she admits, her voice wistful. “Not so much the last few years since he really doesn’t have the time. Or the money.”

Guilt assuages me at the money reference. But I can’t help but be excited by the discovery that I have something in common with Scott Knight. “How many cars does he have?”

“Too many for me to count.” She laughs and shakes her head, her hair rubbing against the soft Italian cream-colored leather. “He had an entire shop built to store them all. Most of them are vintage American classics mixed with a few Italian vehicles—homage to my mother’s family.”

“Nice.” I pull out into traffic, shifting the car into gear as I slow down, and turn right. “I have a garage filled with the cars I’ve collected over the years. I started collecting when I was twenty-one.”

“Really? How many do you have?”

I’m sort of blown away that we’re having a normal conversation like normal people. No snarky remarks or rude comments. And that we actually have something in common—it’s one of my favorite things to talk about, fast and expensive cars. “I have some in storage too. I think—yeah, I have close to one hundred cars in my collection so far.”

“Wow. I know my dad had more than one hundred at one point, but I’m afraid he’s sold quite a few of them.” She nibbles on her lower lip, looking worried. “It makes him sad to lose them, but it needed to be done.”

I can’t imagine having to sell even one of my cars because times were tough. I’d do it if I had to but . . . I wouldn’t want to. I feel for her father.