Page 22 of Wrong Car, Wright Guy
I don’t know whether to yelp in shock or moan with arousal. His tongue sweeps along my spine and causes a delighted shudder to flitter through my body. “Wh-what are you doing?” I gasp huskily.
“Two things,” he rasps, just as the zip gives way, then his warm fingers touch the skin on my back as he makes a slow erotic game out of closing my dress. “Fixing your zip while proving that you might actuallylikeme.”
Snapping into action, I spin around and meet his eyes defiantly. “I don’t.”
His eyes drop to my ratherprominentnipples before returning to mine, that damned panty-melting smile slapping me in the ovaries again. “Lies,” he whispers before pulling back and heading for the door, pulling it open as if he didn’t just lick me. “The car is waiting for us.”
“Huh?” I blink. And blink.
“The car,” he repeats. “It’s time to go.”
“Oh!” I quickly grab the clutch and anything I need from my purse, rushing out the door after him while trying to shake the tingling sensation that’s still running rampant beneath the surface of my skin.What the hell is going on here?
Ten
Tanner
That dress. Ruby sits across from me in the town car, looking out the window while I sit here trying not to stare at her, focusing instead on answering emails via my cell.The distraction isn’t working.
I thought the sexy number Ruby had worn the Friday night I met her was something, but this….whoa. From the options my personal shopper sent over, I chose this one thinking she’d look more, I don’t know, demure or something—simple neckline, flattering shape, length past the knee. But those curves of hers have taken something classic and turned it into a wet dream.
My dick wants her. Hell, I want her. It’s something I’ve been fighting since the moment she walked into my life. I love a woman who isn’t afraid to look me in the eye and fight back, love the tension it creates before the inevitable slamming of hips. A hate fuck, in my opinion, is the best kind of fuck.
When it doesn’t involve a co-worker, of course.
Which is why I’m kicking myself for losing control earlier. I shouldn’t have licked her like that. It was stupid. It was reckless. And it won’t be happening again. Because despite what I or my dick wants, Ruby and I need this tension for the sake of our on-air dynamic. That dynamic iseverything.It’s what will keep listeners tuning in and searching our names for many months—maybe even years—to come. Not to mention the fact that my ability to keep doing a job I lovedependson me using my show to save this station.
My being here came with a couple of provisos.My father has made no secret of his distaste of my chosen profession. He thinks my show is low brow and won’t support it, which is why he only allows it as long as I keep my personal life and our family name out of the gossip rags. That’s proviso number one.
When I approached him about bringing WHGC radio under Wright Media’s umbrella, he wasn’t willing to sign off on it. Until I told him I’d quit if I failed—proviso two.
I save this station by using my show to bolster its ratings and bring in advertising revenue, while also keeping the Wright name squeaky clean, and in return, I get to continue working where I choose, instead of in the office right next to him, miserable, and doing his bidding like every other adult in the Wright family lineage from the beginning until the end of time. No, thank you.
There are few of us who ever manage to avoid the boardroom. Myself and my cousin, Ash, who’s an engineer, are the only two who’ve done it in this generation. However, unlike me, Ash has cut all ties with the family money. Me, I have a very important reason for keeping it—I’m trying to right some wrongs of my own.
“Here we are,” the driver announces, pulling up out the front of the restaurant and snapping me out of my stress-filled daze.
“Ready?” I ask Ruby as I open the door and the noise of the street bursts in.
She nods. “As I’ll ever be.”
Stepping out onto the pavement, I hold out my hand to help her exit the car, trying to hide my smile at the awkward wiggle she does that flashes far more thigh than I’m sure she intended.
“Thank you,” she gasps, her buxom chest heaving from the effort. My eyes drop to her chest where her bust is trying desperately to get free, and I have to drop her hand before I tug her against me and bury my face in it.
Control, Tanner.
I remind myself that I am, in fact, in control, and allow myself to place my hand on the small of her back, doing the gentlemanly thing while ushering her into the restaurant—at least that’s what I tell myself. It certainly isn’t just an excuse to touch something I can’t have.
OK. Maybe my control is slipping.
“So, what are these guys’ names?” Ruby stage whispers as we walk through the door. She smells like expensive perfume, and I don’t think I bought her any perfume. I inhale her scent again, deciding it’s just the scent of her. Oranges and jasmine.I’m in trouble.
I clear my throat. “Bill and Jeremy.”
Her eyes go wide. “Seriously?”
“Do you know them?”
