Page 18 of Reluctantly His

Enveloped in the scent of his cologne, I sat back inside the cool, dark interior as the sounds of the city receded.

When he climbed behind the wheel, I leaned forward as far as the seatbelt would allow. “I don’t have to ride in the back as if you were my driver.”

Although I’d spent my life in the rear seat being chauffeured around from one destination to another—Father didn’t like my sister or I riding the subway because of the possible dangers involved—this was decidedly awkward.

As if the simple division between the front and rear seat was a physical manifestation of the difference in our classes.

Tossing me a sharp look over his shoulder, he started the truck. “I’m not your fucking driver, Lottie. I’m your bodyguard.”

I bristled. “I was just trying to be nice. And I didn’t say you could call me Lottie.”

My name was Charlotte. Full stop. No one, not even my girlfriends, called me Lottie.

His tanned, muscled right arm stretched between the seats as he gripped the passenger seat. There was just a hint of color near the upper shoulder peeking out from his T-shirt sleeve. It appeared to be the bottom half of the U.S. Marine Corp insignia.

“I don’t need you to be nice. I need you to be obedient.”

A shock of awareness hit my chest.

There it was again. That sexy, domineering, protective vibe that radiated off him like heat.

Leaning to the side, I pulled my cello closer like a shield. “Fine. Well, I need my panties back!”

His large hands grabbed the leather steering wheel as he expertly maneuvered through the cluttered streets. Shifting to the left, he reached into his pocket and pulled out my panties.

Twirling the lacy piece of silk and nonsense around his index finger, he laughed. “You mean these panties?”

With an outraged cry, I lunged for them, but was snapped back by the stupid seatbelt. “Give those to me!”

“Not a chance, princess. These are mine now.”

“You’re the worst.”

He met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Really? I got the impression earlier I was your best.”

My cheeks burned as I smirked. “That’s a pretty low bar, considering you’re my first.”

What I thought would be a snarky comeback turned out to be a terrible admission.

The tires of the truck screeched as he pulled over into an alley.

He got out of the truck and circled around.

Meanwhile, I searched through the tinted windows, my gaze scanning for the threat he must have seen.

My passenger door flew open, and Reid leaned inside, his right arm stretching over my lap as he slipped his left hand around the back of my neck.

“What are you?—”

His mouth captured mine, stealing my breath.

Once again, he gave no quarter.

When he leaned his head back, my lips were swollen and sensitive from the hard press of his.

He twisted my hair in his grasp. “Don’t ever tell a man he’s your first in anything, princess. You’ll challenge him to become your last in everything.”

CHAPTER 8

---