Page 57 of Vicious Temptation

We stop and start for another hour, making our way at a snail’s pace around the parking lot. “You’re doing better,” I praise her at the end, and Bella looks at me sideways, a grim little smile on her mouth.

“You’re just being nice,” she says, putting the car in park. “I’ve probably killed your poor car. The engine will never be the same.”

“See? You know at least one of the parts. And if you did kill her, it’s not a big deal.” I shrug. “I’ll buy another one.”

Bella pauses. “You act like it would just be fine. If I screwed something up like that.”

“It would be.” I return her gaze evenly. “That’s why you’re not driving the Ferrari yet. Now that?—”

“I’m being serious, Gabriel.”

The sound of her saying my name feels more and more like a gut punch, every time I hear it. Like all the air is snatched out of my lungs, like everything inside of me gets twisted up and I don’t know how to respond to any of it. I can’t recall a woman making me feel like this before. I can’t remember the last time just the sound of my name made me feel like I had to work to breathe.

I get out of the car, circling around to the other side, because I need air. I need a minute not sitting within a hand’s length of her, the scent of her skin and soap filling the warmth between us, the way she makes me want to laugh and lightens every mood, only adding to the choked, tight feeling that I get every time I’m around her.

What I don’t count on is her sliding out of the car at the same moment, so that I nearly collide with her as I come around the car.

Just like that first morning. Except this time, she’s not crying. This time, I grab the side of the door to keep from slamming into her or grabbing her instead, because I know that she doesn’t like to be touched. And it leaves her in between me and the car, her breathing suddenly faster, her chest rising and falling as she looks up at me with those huge doe eyes and her lips part.

An alarm goes off in my head, because I’ve technically trapped her in this space, and I don’t want to frighten her. Not after what she’s been through. But she doesn’t look frightened. She looks?—

I close my eyes, fighting back the urge to kiss her. To cover her mouth with mine and find out what it tastes like. To push her back down in the driver’s seat and lean her back against the center console, pull her jeans down, and get down on my knees right here on the hot asphalt so I can spread her legs and lick every inch of her between them. So I can make her scream when she comes. Scream my name, the way I want to hear her say it.

Every drop of blood in my body goes to my cock, my muscles tight, my pulse hammering in my ears. I’m squeezing the door so hard I can feel it biting into my fingers.

“Gabriel?”

Bella’s voice, small and uncertain, comes from the other side of the car. I open my eyes, and guilt washes over me, because I see immediately that she ducked under my arm and went around to get in on the passenger’s side, all while I stood here and wrestled with the urge to ravish her. Her eyes are fixed on my face, but the way her throat works as she swallows tells me she’s fighting the urge to look lower.

That she knows what she’ll see if she does.

“You ready to go home?” I drop into the seat, resisting the urge to adjust myself. My cock is bent in my jeans in the worst of ways, but that’s my punishment for being unable to keep my thoughts in the correct lane. I glance over at her, and I see her eyes widen at the same moment that I realize the word home came out of my mouth.

It’s my home, of course. But it’s beginning to feel like hers, too. Like she belongs there. And if there’s one thing I don’t doubt, it’s that she’s starting to feel the same way about it.

“That sounds good,” Bella manages hoarsely, her hands wrapped tightly together between her knees. She’s tugged her sleeves down over them, the way I’ve noticed she does when she gets nervous, and I feel a little more like an asshole than before.

I’m lusting over her, and it’s making her uncomfortable.

I’m going to screw everything up, and it’s going to be my fault. She deserves better than this. Better than me thinking about her like I’m starving, and she’s something I can’t wait to devour.

At this point, I don’t know how I’d even trust myself to touch her. How I could believe that I’d have the restraint to go as slowly as she’d need me to, without scaring her. A girl afraid of being touched even casually isn’t a girl I should take to bed after four years of living like a monk. Four years in which I’ve fucked maybe that many times, and gotten myself off probably a couple dozen, all told.

My self-control is in tatters just from being near her. There’s no way in hell I can be trusted to touch her.

“Thank you,” Bella says suddenly, breaking the silence and dragging me out of my thoughts. “For teaching me. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted this to be the only lesson.”

“You’re welcome. And I meant what I said. I’ll give you as many lessons as you need.”

“You might regret that.” She laughs. “But I do like the idea of being able to drive.” She hesitates. “It’s been nice, being out. I mean—I love being in your home. I love living there so far, and I have everything I could possibly want. But I do feel guilty asking to use the driver, just to go out. And I don’t get out often as it is. So this—” She looks out of the window. It’s a warm summer evening in upstate New York—the trees are green, and the air is soft with a hint of dry heat, the light lasting well into the evening. “This is really nice.”

“You don’t ever have to feel guilty about asking to use the driver.” I glance over at her, taking in her wistful expression, and I make a snap decision.

“Where are you going?” she asks confusedly, as we drive past the road I’d normally turn on to head back to the house. I’m surprised that she picked up the way back so quickly, but maybe I shouldn’t have been. She’s smart, and clearly notices a lot. It’s part of what makes her good with my children.

“I’ve changed my mind.” I look at her, hoping I haven’t miscalculated, and that she’ll be happy about this. “We’re going out to dinner.”

Bella’s eyes widen. “What about Agnes? And the kids?—”

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