Page 195 of Remy

All I can do is smile into the bliss.

I understand adrenaline is playing its part. That I’ll look back on this in a different light. But for now I’m putty in his hands. A slave at his alter.

“You were right,” I whisper, gliding my fingers to his waistband. “The locals wouldn’t have appreciated you doing that in front of the bar.”

His snicker brushes my skin, lightly tickling.

I still want more.

I glide my hands to the buckle of his belt and tug at the leather strap.

“No.” He stiffens, his fingers clamping tight around mine. “We need to get out of here in case the cops are on the way.”

The rejection is more subtle than it was the first time in his penthouse, but it hurts all the same.

The giddy perfection flees my body.

He weaves an arm around my waist, inching me sideways, allowing him the room to open the passenger door.

“I have to speak to my men.” He guides me inside, helping to drag on my seat belt as if I’m a child in need of parental assistance, or more accurately—a virgin he’s now placing a barrier in front of. “I won’t take long.”

I remain stunned as he closes the door, leaving me to pick up the pieces of my tattered pride in private.

I don’t understand. Why can he go down on me on the side of a back road with his men nearby, but me reaching for his belt buckle goes against some sick sort of terms of service?

It doesn’t make sense.

I want this.

Want him.

It’s not fair.

Minutes later, he climbs into the driver’s seat while I try not to sulk.

I remain stiffly defiant while he does a three-point turn and travels back past the car wreck where his men carry the driver’s limp body from the vehicle.

“What will happen to the crime scene?” I murmur.

“Russo and Valenti will make sure the bodies disappear.”

“And the car?”

“They’ll torch it.”

The flame reference takes me back to the way his mouth felt between my thighs. How my body burned.

We fit perfectly.

No one could convince me otherwise.

“How did they get here so fast?” I breathe through the building sadness, trying to distract myself.

“They followed us from Baltimore. They’ve been here the whole time.” He shoots me a glance. “I wouldn’t leave you unprotected.”

Merely unsatisfied.

I sigh, hating the animosity that festers. “Tell me why I can’t touch you.”

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