Alistair signaled for the waiter and handed his credit card.
Sophia immediately grabbed her purse, “Don’t, please.”
His hand flew to prevent her from opening her purse and closed around her bruised wrist. She flinched.
Jesus Christ! “I’m sorry,” he murmured and tenderly kissed the inside of her black-and-blue wrist.
A thrill coursed through Sophia’s spine.
“Is the driver waiting for you?”
“Not yet.” She shook her head. “I have to call him.”
“I’ll drive you back.” He stated as he signed the credit card slip with a swift movement of his left hand.
Another ride? What is my problem? Do I have a flashing sign of my forehead ‘I’m lost. Rescue me?’
Sophia felt utterly dominated by the sheer maleness beside her. “That would be lovely,” she heard herself replying. Why she bothered she didn’t understand, because he hadn’t asked.
Sophia relaxed on the seat of the Imperial Blue Metallic BMW 760Li, listening attentively to Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto in C minor playing on the stereo. But when Alistair entered the car, she tensed up.
It had one-way tinted glass windows and, as he sat, he closed the specially made privacy divider. She immediately regretted having accepted the ride to her office. Too tall, too broad, too much. He needs a stretch limo, not a car.
Alistair’s sexual magnetism and potent energy in the enclosed car heightened Sophia’s tension.
“Do you know the address?” She bit her lip and crossed her long legs, tightening the desire inside her.
He chuckled, a deep sound that made Sophia’s stomach constrict with a flaming need to jump him. He shifted and drew a knee onto the seat, facing her. She eyed his legs and warred with the desire to fling herself between them and to run her hands over them. He leaned toward her and his green gaze swirled. “Of course,” he said, huskily, “how could I not know?” An arm rested lightly on the back of the seat.
What is that supposed to mean? Sophia put her bag on her lap and her hand clutched the door handle. “I love this concerto. Rachmaninoff is so-”
“Profound, dark?” He moved closer, searching her eyes, studying her features.
Sophia breathed in and his smell hit her with full force. Sublime Vanille and a touch of oak somewhere. Sublimely male. He had been silently manipulating her, exuding strength and a powerful command on her will during the entire lunch. Her head lifted without her consent; she was too turned on to care anymore. She licked her lips, her breathing already altered.
Alistair saw when she lost control and took charge. Something withered inside his chest but he shoved the feeling deeper down. Enjoy it, Alistair. This one has resisted a bit more but in the end she’s just like all the others. A slut. He was too busy dealing with his bubbling lust to notice his shy and lonely sun ray hiding behind his darkness.
An arm under her knees and another behind her back did the job of transferring her onto his lap as his tongue licked the seam of her lips and she opened to him. Honey. She tastes of honey and coffee and chocolate. He didn’t wait and dipped in for more. Her lips were everything he had imagined, full and soft.
He kissed her lustfully.
Mindlessly.
Senselessly.
His mouth closed over hers and his passion blindsided her. His kiss was bold and passionate. His lips coached her desire and his tongue tasted her in leisurely licks, no hurry, taking all her will from her and demanding more, requesting all. One of her hands dived into his luscious hair, the other gripped his hard biceps, and her breath quickened.
He felt her nails raking his nape and his erection hardened even more. He shifted to better press her thigh to it. The hand behind her knees moved under her dress, caressing her leg encased in silky tights and finding her garter.
Fuck! His fingers looked for and found velvet skin. His hand cupped her upper-thigh massaging the lean but toned and muscled thigh while his mouth ravaged the column of her neck, kissing and nipping. He gripped her hair and gently yanked her head back, baring her throat to have better access. He inhaled her intoxicating scent. Sweet petals of white roses in bloom. I could lick her forever. He bit her earlobe softly and she moaned.
“Sophia,” his lust filled whisper shook Sophia out of her dream-state and she pushed hard at his chest.
Have I gone utterly insane? I’m going out with a man and making out with another? In a car in the middle of The City? “Stop. Now,” she struggled to command, but she could barely stutter a whisper.
His thumb brushed her lacy panties and her hand flew to his wrist before he did any more damage to her sanity.
She scrambled back on the seat, rearranging her dress. “I’m sorry.” She combed her hair with her fingers and lowered her eyelids. “I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
Alistair glared at her and down at his pants where one of his biggest erections strained his fly. But she, fuck, she looks absolutely composed.
He looked at her unwrinkled dress and her hair barely out of place. Only her mouth showed any indication of his passionate kisses. That drove him mad. She completely unsettled him. How is she in such control? “Why?” he almost barked.
She startled and stared at him, biting her lip.
Christ! Her eyes had changed color again.
“It’s none of your business, Mr. MacCraig.”
“Davidoff?” he growled.
“I’ve already apologized for my behavior. It was unacceptable,” she snapped. “Ask your driver to stop the car. I’m getting out.” She was angry with herself. She needed fresh air.
“The hell you are.” He raked his fingers through his silky hair, taking note that her eyes were changing color again. “You came to have lunch with me. I’ll see that you’re safely dropped back at your office.” He crossed his arms over the wide expanse of his chest, ending the argument.
Well, so you think. Sophia waited until the car slowed down after entering Fleet Street and opened the door, jumping out of the car, almost in front of The Royal Courts of Justice. People stopped to look at her. Great, Sophia! Way to do it. She grabbed her iPhone and dialed Edward, while dodging her way through the crowd with hurried steps.
“Christ!” Alistair said, her actions paralyzing him for a few seconds. The woman’s utterly insane. But hot! So hot!
Garrick must have noticed that the door had been opened because the car stopped. Alistair threw himself out of the car after her, banging the door loudly behind him. She was ahead of him but his strides were longer.
“Stop, Sophia!” He ordered but she didn’t even look back. Hmm. Not so submissive. She hadn’t even bothered to put on her overcoat and it remained draped over her arm. Fuck, it’s bloody freezing. She’s going to catch a cold, damn woman. When she slowed her pace because of the flow of barristers, solicitors, and the throng of people going in and out of the court, he gripped her shoulders and whipped her roughly around, caging her in his arms. Gently, Alistair Connor, or she’ll bruise. “Where do you suppose you’re going, Sophia?”
“Back to my office, which I should have never left,” she retorted in a low, enraged voice. “It seems to me, Mr. MacCraig, that you just repeated the same behavior you condemned in Mr. Wales.”