Page 26 of An Improper Deal (Elliot & Annabelle 1)
He makes a pistol with his fingers and points it at her. “No problem.”
Crossing my arms, I wa
it until she disappears into the building. “All right. What are you doing?”
“You haven’t been sleeping well. Or are you working too hard?”
I can feel his gaze probing me, and my body responds as though he is stroking me with his big, strong hands. That liquid heat starts going again, and it infuriates me as much as it turns me on. This man is an absolute menace. I can’t think clearly when he’s near me. I don’t even drink alcohol because of its effects, but he’s more potent than the beer bombs I used to have in high school.
My shoulders rise until they almost touch my ears. “I’m going to ask again. What are you doing?”
He tilts his head. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You know she’s only fifteen, right?”
Distaste twists his handsome face. “Jesus. I don’t like young girls.”
“So…what are you doing?”
“Giving. Your sister. A ride.”
“Are you stalking me?” Flustered, I make a half-circle with my hand. “Us?”
“Not particularly. But I got tired of waiting for an answer from you.”
“Have you considered the possibility that no response means no?”
“But that would be rude, and you’re too well-bred for that.”
“What do you know about my breeding?”
“Enough. And quite a bit else as well.”
“Then you know I have a lot of baggage.”
“You see me running?” Pulling the sunglasses off his face, he looks at me. His dark gaze ensnares my eyes, and I feel like I’m sinking into quicksand. The problem is I don’t want to get out. “I need an answer. Yes or no?”
“I…uh…” I hug myself and look away.
Everywhere around me is ugly graffiti and crushed beer cans on cracked sidewalks. One of them rolls slightly in the breeze, clinking. Underneath my left foot is a cigarette butt. Good god. I suck as a provider.
It’s time I get real. I can’t let Nonny grow up in this hellhole.
“I…have some conditions,” I say.
“Let’s hear them.”
I look around the driveway. There are people coming in and out, and Elliot’s attracting attention. “Not here. It’s too public.”
“Get in the car,” he says. The passenger door is still open, so I climb inside and he swings it shut. The gentlemanly gesture surprises me. I’m not modern enough to reject old-world manners.
He gets behind the wheel and starts driving.
The interior is posh. I suppose that’s normal with a car like this. The seat feels like it’s made of fresh rose petals rather than leather, and the powerful engine sounds like it wants to go chase down a bullet train or something.
Elliot’s presence is impossible to ignore in such a close environment. The sexual frustration from Monday rears its head, pulsing through me. The soap and clean scent of man coming from him makes my mouth water, and I have the most absurd urge to lick the skin on his neck and see if it’s as sensitive as it looks. I shift slightly and adjust the vents so the cool air blows directly on my heated, tingling skin.
“So. Your conditions?”
