Chapter 3

“I thought you might have been a creep,” I tell him as I settle onto the soft leather seats.

“I thought I told you not to leave,” he answers too quickly, his jawline tense like he’s actually upset with me.

“I figured I should be upfront about my rebellious attitude. You know, put it all out on the table,” I shrug and he tries to hide the smirk begging to curl his full lips.

“Don’t be cute, Christy,” he remarks, nodding at his driver, as the limo pulls away from the curb.

“I thought you told me I was cute. Something about me deserving the best?” I try to recall what he said earlier.

“I said you were gorgeous, and gorgeous you should be, but don’t be cute.” He looks down his perfectly proportioned nose at me.

“Or what?” The words slide off my tongue before I can stop them and from the look on his face he’s just as shocked as me by my challenge.

Without a word, he lifts me onto his lap, my legs instantly spreading to straddle him, his hand roughly gripping my hair before his lips find mine and apply the perfect amount of pressure. Tilting my head, he slides his tongue into my mouth. He tastes of mint and whiskey, a nice combination.

His free hand is on my hip, yanking at my dress until he’s beneath the thin chiffon fabric, his strong hands gripping my lace-covered bottom. My pelvis instinctively grinds against the bulge in his pants and I can feel desire pooling between my legs.

“You should stop, or I’ll take you in this car,” he sighs after pulling away from my swollen lips. I’m so disappointed in this abrupt ending I can’t even remember the banter between us that sparked his attack.

“Is that what you want?” He grasps my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes as he lifts his hips, pressing that hard bulge against my sex. I’m so wet, I can feel it.

“No, I don’t want to…” I trail off.

“What? Do you have something against fucking in cars?” He raises an eyebrow, both his hands now gripping my ass.

“Maybe another time,” I bite my bottom lip, embarrassed about how this may play out.

“Another time? Why not this time?” He tilts his head, studying me again.

“I’m no romantic, but I kinda saw my first time being in, I don’t know, a bed,” I try to make light of the situation, although I know he could very well be completely turned off by my admission.

“You’re a… how old are you?” He squints.

“Twenty-four,” my voice is barely above a whisper.

Warren doesn’t say anything for so long it’s unbearably awkward, but I can’t find a word to break the silence. His hands are now on my hips, my body finally cooling from the intense rush of adrenaline I experienced. Just when I think I should slide back into my seat and find a way to roll out of the car without being noticed, he raises his hand to my face, gripping my chin between the pad of his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger.

“Tell me I can have you, Christina,” he breathes, our lips less than an inch apart.

“What does that mean? And how do you know my name is Christina?” I scrunch my nose in confusion, and he bites his bottom lip in amusement. Goddamn, he’s sexy.

“No one names someone as beautiful as you Christy,” he whispers on my lips before planting three swift kisses.

“Tell me I can have you, Christina,” he repeats himself.

“You never told me what that means,” I remind him, but he just kisses me, his tongue dominating my mouth in the best way.

I’m lost to his touch, drowning in his control as my hips again grind against him desperately. He pulls away and I’m left panting as his lip venture to my neck, that masterful tongue teasing me as he sprinkles wet kisses to my ear.

“Tell me,” he urges me, but I can’t find any words. I’m speechless and powerless in his lap, bending to his seduction.

“Tell me, Christina,” he repeats himself using my full name again.

“Tell you what?” I moan, just wanting him to continue kissing me all over as he now moves lower, tracing my collarbone with his tongue while my legs spread further, my sex craving the friction.

“Tell me I can have you,” he clarifies, but I’m still confused.

“What do you want from me?” I ask through moans. God, he is good with that mouth, I can’t believe I haven’t given him the rights to my life by now. All he has to do is stop and I’ll give him whatever he wants to convince him to kiss me again.

“I want all of you,” he yanks my hair, my back arching in response, and before I know what’s happened his mouth is on my breast, kissing at my peek-a-boo of cleavage as his hands roam my body, landing on my ass again.

“All of you,” he reiterates, biting the soft flesh of my breast while spreading my ass cheeks with his strong hands.

I gasp in response, my head springing forward as I struggle to sit upright. With his head resting on the headrest, I study his face. Those full lips that have been teasing my body are now dark pink and glistening, his dark eyes hooded with lust, and his jawline is tense as he clenches his teeth.

“You’re trouble,” is all I can think to say, and when the left side of his mouth curls upwards I know I’m right.

“So that’s a ‘yes’?” He asks, leaning so close to me I can smell the whiskey on his breath.

“I’m confused,” I admit honestly.

“Confused about what?” His thick eyebrows scrunch together, creating a furry line.

“What it means to give myself to you. Are you asking for my virginity?” The words come slowly. I can’t be sure if this is just how people talk, but I’ve never had anyone ask me anything so ambiguous. I feel like I’m seconds away from signing my life away, and what’s worse, I’m only asking where exactly the dotted line is.

“Here,” he grips my hips and lifts me before gently placing me on the seat next to him. “Stanley,” he says after leaning forward and pressing a button.

“Yes, sir?” The driver asks back through the intercom. It’s the first I’ve noticed the partition had gone up between the front seat, Warren must have pushed another button while I was on his lap.

“One-fifty-seven,” he says before glaring over at me.

Oh gosh, is he mad at me for asking a simple question? Fumbling to pull down my dress, I feel so embarrassed tears are actually stinging the back of my eyes.

Christy, you better not let this douchebag see you cry! I silently scream at myself, effectively drying the tears before they can even fall. Looking around, I debate asking him to stop right here, I don’t need him to drop me off wherever he’s just told his driver to take me. This is ridiculous, he’s speaking in codes. What does 157 even mean? He’s got a virgin and wants her dropped off in Central Park?