Chapter 12
I don’t really know what Knox expected from that meeting, and I really have no idea why it was important that I was there, but everyone seems happy, and clearly the waterfront deal is going ahead, so I’m happy for them.
I’m also wondering what happens now. I mean, I’ve fulfilled my usefulness to Knox, and part of me is steeling myself up for: okay, that’s it? Are we done? I don’t say it, though, because I’m hoping it’s not. I’m hoping he meant it when he said we had unfinished business.
I mean, I know what he meant. I was on the verge on climaxing against his hand while he drove down the highway, which is the kinkiest thing I’ve ever done. Not that I have much of a repertoire on that score. Not that I have actually done anything kinky, other than fantasize about being roughly taken by a stranger. Or by Knox.
I watch him from the corner of my eye as we drive back into the city. The car handles like a dream, and I allow myself a brief fantasy where one day he lets me drive it.
“Would you?” I ask, thinking aloud.
“Would I what?”
I’m embarrassed, and asking if he would let me drive his car is just going to make him laugh at me, so I try to think of something else quick.
“Would you look after my cats?”
He tilts his head and looks at me. “Well, I would probably hire someone to do it, actually, like you said.”
I nod.
“But the first night, I’d do it myself. It’d give me a chance to check out your apartment.” He gives me a wolfish grin. “I might rifle through your underwear drawer.”
I pretend to be shocked, but the idea of him touching my panties has already heated me up again, and I can feel myself getting aroused. At the man talking about my underwear drawer, for God’s sake. This has gone too far.
“Knox…”
He glances at me. I half hope he’ll put his hand on my thigh again, but both his hands stay firmly on the steering wheel. So fine, this is it, I’ve served my purpose, and he’s done.
I think about purple haired girl and how she was so clearly in love with him. You never even invited me to your penthouse, she said. But he thinks he’d get into my apartment? Not likely.
He glances at me. “What?”
“I would never ask you to catsit,” I tell him.
He seems surprised by this. “Why not?”
Because it would kill me to be just friends with you, I’m thinking. Because it would make me sad that you were paying someone else to do it for you. Because…
I don’t have a good answer, and it boils down to because I think seeing you again will break my heart.
I shrug and look out the window, saying nothing until I see him drive past the turn off for Docklands. “Hey, you missed my exit,” I say.
He glances at me, really frowning now. “You want to go home?”
“I…” What kind of question is that? “Where else would I go?”
“To dinner with me?”
It’s weird hearing this man speaking in a question, as if he could ever be insecure. As he has ever not had his way. And for a moment, I’m tempted to point out that once again, he never actually asked me. A tiny mean part of me wants him to know what insecurity feels like. But the truth is, I want to go to dinner with him more.
“Maybe,” I say. “What’s on offer?” I know he knows I’m playing hard to get when that wolfish grin returns to his face.
He puts his hand back on my thigh.
I press my knees together. If he touches me, I’m done for, and we both know it. “That’s not dinner!”
“No,” he says. “That’s dessert.” He smiles at me lazily. “I noticed you wore silky panties for tonight.”
Now I’m blushing, still with my knees together, and feeling like a stupid schoolgirl.
“I just happened to put them on!” I’m convincing absolutely no one, and I know it.
“With lace,” he says. He’s not moving his hand, but my thighs are burning up at his touch without him having to actually do anything at all. He grins. “Not like the cotton ones you wore to work.”
“You know what? I don’t think I want to talk about my under things with you.” It’s the lamest come back ever, but it’s all I got.
“I’m okay with not much talking,” he says, leaving his hand resting on my thigh like it belongs there, like this is normal. My heart rate is faster than it should be, which annoys and intrigues me. I relax a little bit, and he smiles at me.
“Have you ever been to L’Atelier?”
“Um, no?” It’s one of the most expensive restaurants in NYC, which is saying a lot. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t afford a cocktail there, let alone anything to eat.
“Well, I gave them a call and…”
“I don’t think I’m dressed right for L’Atelier.” There’s no way. I’m not doing this.
He smiles that lazy wolf smile again. “It’s fine. They are coming to us.”
“What?” I’m so lost.
“The chef is coming to the penthouse and making dinner for us there. I hope you like steak.”
My mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. “We are going to your penthouse and the chef of L’Atelier is going meet us there?”
“He’s already there, actually.” Knox shrugs. “I said we wanted an early dinner.”
“But…” And I know I keep coming back to this, but it’s an important point. “But how did you know I’d say yes?” As soon as the words escape me, I want to bite them back. If I hadn’t said yes, he’d just have called someone else. It’s not like he’d have trouble finding someone to come over for a personalized dinner from L’Atelier, right?
“I hoped,” he said.
I just stare back at him. This is not a man who leaves things to chance.
He’s grinning to himself, and when he sees the serious look on my face, he laughs. “Okay, full confession. I hoped you would say yes. If you didn’t, I was going to tell you about the chef and try to guilt you into it. And if that failed, I’ve got Maddy’s number on speed dial, and she promised me she’d strong-arm you into it.”
“She promised what?!”
“Maddy told me she’d convince you to come with me.” He chews his lip and then says the impossible. “She told me that you were a virgin.”
Oh my God, just kill me now.