Page 21 of Sugar Baby Mine

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” His breath blows over the shell of my ear, my back arching in response. Ben pulls back to look at me, eyes falling to my parted lips as his fingers trail back down my thigh and my dress falls back into place.

The key fob drops into my palm, and I blink down at it. Right. Looking back up, I lean up on my toes and press a kiss to the skin just below his ear.

“Very,veryhard, in fact.” I smile coyly, enjoying the way his jaw visibly grits.

Turning on my heel, I hold the front of the jacket with my free hand and walk around the front of the car. I can’t resist the urge to run my finger along the sleek metal, tapping the hood ornament. I want to die when I slide into the driver’s seat—its slate gray exterior is complemented with a black leather interior. Everything is pure luxury.

Ben drops into the passenger seat, watching as I fiddle to scoot the seat closer to the steering wheel.

“I’m kind of sad my place isn’t that far. I want to drive this out of the city,” I say, pushing the button to start the car. It purrs to life, pulling a poorly concealed squeal out of my throat. I cough, swallowing down my excitement.

“We’ll take a weekend trip, take it out then. Southampton is still nice even in the autumn.”

I buckle the seat belt and shimmy the jacket around my shoulders, not wanting to actually take it off, as I direct the air vents away from me. Glancing over at him, I place my hands on the steering wheel and try to pretend that I’m totally one hundred percent okay right now.

“Please tell me that you don’t own a house in the Hamptons.”

“Okay, I don’t own a house in the Hamptons.”

Part of me is disappointed in that easy admission.

“Well, fine. Good. Great. I look forward to flooring this on the 495,” I say as we pull into the street. It feels so sinful to press the gas harder than I really need to.

Ben only shakes his head at me, raking a hand down his face to scratch through the scruff of his beard. “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

“Probably.”

“You do have a driver’s license, right?”

I laugh, pressing the gas harder to get through a yellow light. “You did a background check, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. But do you actually knowhow to drive? There’s a difference.”

“Should’ve asked me that before letting me get in the driver’s seat.”

“Emmeline.”

“Calm down. I don’t drive because I don’t have a car and traffic is atrocious most of the time, anyway. I know how—I’m an excellent driver, thank you very much.”

He looks skeptical when I glance over, eventually settling back into the seat. Though his shoulders are a little stiff.

“Don’t look so scared. We’re literally like eight blocks from my apartment, you’ll have your precious car back soon.”

“I’m not that worried. I have others”—of course he does—“but this is my favorite.”

“I’ll take care of your car like she’s my own baby, don’t worry,”I say, giving the dash a little pat. “What other cars do you have?”

Because I’m nothing if not curious.

“A Range Rover and a Camaro.”

“You’re such a hipster.”

“Why don’t you just focus on driving?” he snarks.

“Yes, sir.Driving Miss Daisyis here to take us safely to my place.”

“You do know that she was actually not good at driving, right? She had to have a chauffeur.”

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