Hooked (Never After, #1)(22)
His brow rises. “I’m not sure I do.”
He moves quickly, leaning over the console, his body crowding me until I press back against the seat. He skims his nose up my neck, and my stomach cramps so tight I lose my breath.
“Because I want to put my mouth on you?” His lips dance from my ear down my jaw until they’re hovering above mine.
My heart slams against my chest. I am so out of my element.
“I promise you’d like it,” he whispers.
And just like that, his body heat disappears as he moves to his side of the car and reverses out of the lot.
13
James
I’m taking her to the marina; to my home. I considered a more public outing, but I’ve decided against it, not wanting to take the chance of her father finding out before I’m ready.
I’d like him to know exactly who I am before I pull the rug out from under him.
Luckily, Ru didn’t ask questions, most likely assuming she was something quick for me to enjoy. If he thought about it long enough, he’d realize I’ve never had a random girl in the office, only Moira, and only when I need the release. But people see the world through a personal lens, and sometimes it’s easier to believe what you think is true instead of having to figure out others. Generally, this works in my favor.
Our meeting with Peter is tomorrow, and I’m practically giddy at the thought of meeting him face to face and watching the look in his eyes as we tell him no. He can be a dirty businessman all he wants—in fact, I’m quite sure he’s excelled at the role for many years—but he won’t come into this territory and stake ownership. He’s taken enough from me, I won’t allow him to have this too.
A whiff of vanilla spirals through my nose.
Wendy.
I force a grin, refocusing my attention on her, not wanting to show the violent thoughts running through my head. Surprisingly, I feel no resentment, despite the fact she’s the child of my enemy. In fact, if I think on it long enough, there’s a tendril of something sickly and sweet that winds through my insides, regretful she has to be used this way—as a pawn in a goal much larger than she’ll ever be.
But I’m never one to pass up a golden opportunity, and that’s exactly what she is. A way for me to play with my prey before I end him.
Peter Michaels doesn’t deserve a quick death, he deserves a reckoning.
A realization that he has no friends. No family. No pride. That everything was taken from him; his choices stripped away, and his reality molded into nightmares.
And then I’ll kill him.
We pull into the marina, and before I even have the key out of the ignition, Wendy is reaching for the door. My hand shoots out, wrapping around her wrist. “What’s the rush? Stay still.”
Her eyes widen as she pauses. “Oh, I—”
Releasing her, I slide from the car, walking around to open the passenger door. A spike of arousal flares through me as I gaze down, her chocolate eyes sparkling as she grins up at me, her face level with my groin. Such a pretty position we’re in. I reach my hand out, and she places her palm in mine, my fingers squeezing slightly as I pull her from her spot. As soon as she’s standing, I jerk her forward, her breath whooshing as she stumbles into my frame. “Allow a man to be chivalrous, won’t you?”
Her head dips slightly to rest against my chest before she clears her throat and backs away. She glances around. “Are we going on a boat?”
I smile. “Is that alright?”
Nodding, her fingers twist in front of her. “It’s fine, I just... I don’t do the best on water.”
My hand rests on her lower back as I guide her toward the walkway, past the other boats, where at the last slip my forty-three-meter sailing yacht sits. The Tiger Lily.
“We aren’t taking it anywhere, I just thought we could have dinner somewhere private.”
Sliding my palm around her waist, I help her step from the walkway onto the side deck. I don’t normally bring people to where I live, and definitely never a woman, but I want her to feel special. Different.
“This is yours?” she asks.
Nodding, I follow behind her, the feel of her black dress soft underneath my hand. “It is.”
Sailing yachts are wonderful for a majority of reasons. Luxurious, comfortable, and most importantly, they’re extremely mobile, allowing me to escape to one of my many slips owned around the world if needed.
She looks around the living room, the cream furniture setting nicely against the cherrywood floors. “Do you live here?”
My stomach tightens as I watch her take it in. “I do.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Warmth trickles through my chest. I walk up behind her. “You’re beautiful.”
She spins and I step closer, enjoying the way her body flushes crimson every time I do. “Would you like a tour now or later?”
“Hmm.” She tilts her head to one side, and I resist the urge to lean down and skim my lips across her skin. “I think dinner first, and then a tour.”
Nodding, I lead her to the sun deck where I had my live-in crew member, Smee, set up dinner. I smile, pleased with the result of his work. Patio lights are strung, casting a romantic glow, and white linen and plates are set on the round table surrounded by the U-shaped cushioned benches; champagne cooling in the center.