Page 133 of Volatile Obsessions

“Let’s go, before I give your friends a reason to come to the door.” His chest heaved.

As did my own, pulse rampaging beneath my skin. “I’m sure they’re already there.”

We never found out if they were or not, and quite frankly, I didn't care either way.

I just wanted to get Rome alone.

Once we made it outside and strolled up to the Benz, Rome—ever the gentleman—opened the door for me and ushered me inside, even pulling the seatbelt out a ways for me to grab. As I went about buckling myself in with still shaky hands, he slid around the front end and effortlessly slipped inside beside me.

“So, where are we going?” I asked to distract myself from the ache between my thighs.

It’d been a week since our last romp in the sheets.

A simple flick of his wrist, and the engine roared to life, rolling a sensuous vibration through my seat. “A light dinner, but after that, well, I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a surprise.” He grinned and reached over the center console for my hand, lacing our fingers together. “You’ll see.”

I groaned inwardly.

I absolutely detested surprises, could’ve sworn he knew that already…but his excitement was palpable, and I didn’t want to ruin it.

So I kept that little morsel of information to my myself, offering him a small smile and a nod instead.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to love it,” he added, reversing out of his spot. “Or at least I hope you will.”

“Well, give me a hint,” I cajoled.

“I can’t.”

“C’mon, Rome, just a small hint.”

He shook his head with finality. “Not happening, baby.”

“Please?” My query came with a squeeze to his hand, and then, instant silence.

His eyes came off the road for a split-second. When we stopped at a red light near the on-ramp for I-95, he turned toward me in entirety and simply observed me.

I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. What he was contemplating so firmly, I’m not sure, but I didn’t ask. I just sat there and watched him, too. Studied the hard lines of his face, the perfect arch of his brows, the fierce blue of his eyes...

It’s times like these I wondered how I ever thought I could kill him. How I ever thought I could stay away.

“Magic,” he said suddenly, refocusing my attention in the moment.

Our eyes met as my brow quirked. “What?”

“You wanted a hint. The hint is magic.”

The light flipped from red to green, like the magic he’d just spoken of. Rome tapped on the gas and we were off, zooming through the intersection onto the Southbound ramp.

Glued to my seat, I found myself mentally repeating the word over and over again.

Magic?

Such a loaded yet vague hint.

Magic could be anything if one so believes.

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