Page 82 of By His Rule

Damn, she looks good sitting there.

“That doesn’t impress me,” she sneers when I bring the engine to life. Admittedly, I do rev it a little more than I usually would, but only because I know it’s going to cause a reaction. Something I’m becoming more and more addicted to achieving with Lorelei.

“No?” I ask, glancing over at her with a shit-eating grin on my face. “What about this?”

I slam my foot on the gas and the car races forward, throwing us both back into our seats. Lorelei squeals, her grip on the leather so tight her knuckles turn white.

“If I thought I was going to be risking my life getting in here with you, then I definitely would have got the bus.”

“Nah, the bus is boring. Life is about living.”

“Oh my god,” she whimpers as I race through the empty parking lot like it’s my own personal race track. “Where the hell did you learn to drive like this?” she demands.

My lips part, but she beats me to it.

“Wait, don’t tell me. You had race car training as a kid. Same year you vacationed in China, I bet.”

I chuckle. “Yes, actually. Although it wasn’t the same year as China. A couple later.”

“Of course. Can you please—fuck,” she gasps as I bring the car to an abrupt stop before pulling out onto the street.

“Everything okay over there?” I tease.

“Great. Just great. If you could slow down a little, that would be—shiiit, Kian,” she screams when I take off again.

“Getting your heart rate up is good for the soul,” I tell her as I ease the car around the corner.

“I can think of better ways of making that happen,” she cries.

Sadly, we hit congestion and I’m forced to slow down.

“Thank fuck for that,” she mutters, finally releasing her grip on the seat.

“Didn’t have you down as the kind of woman who shies away from a little adrenaline.”

“There's adrenaline and then there’s fearing for your life. Two very different things.”

“If you say so.”

“Do you remember where I live?”

“Please, give me some credit, Lorelei.”

“Fine,” she hisses before her cell goes off again.

She groans at whatever she finds waiting for her.

“You sure everything is okay?”

“Brilliant.”

“He’s not drunk already, is he?” I tease.

“No, it’s not my brother, it’s—” She slams her lips closed.

“It’s…” I prompt.

“None of your business. Here is great,” she says the second we pull onto her street.

---