Page 143 of Divine Obsession

Present

The city lights blurred past as Trevor drove his Ferrari through Park Avenue. We’d just left Francesca’s party at two in the morning and the soft glow of Downtown flickered through the windshield, casting brief shadows across Trevor’s sharp profile as he drove.

I hadn’t wanted a ride from him, but it felt like fighting with him would just lead to us hate-fucking. And I was really trying to prevent that from happening again.

He hadn't said anything since we left, and the silence was heavy.

I had asked Francesca for a change of clothes before I left; something comfortable, something that didn’t remind me of the tight, clingy dress I had been wearing. Now I felt slightly more comfortable in the yoga pants and pink top, my hair pinned up in a clip and my heels replaced with Juicy Couture fluffy slides.

But it was the way the cool air of the car pressed against my skin, that made me painfully aware of how much the night had affected me.

I shifted again, pressing my thighs together – and they werestillshaking.God, this was embarrassing.

I gripped the leather of the seat for a moment, trying to focus on anything else but the sharp tension between Trevor and I. The silence was suffocating.

Amai.

Sweet.

I couldn’t shake off the goddamn word.

Sweet.

Not menace.

Sweet.

Trevor.Always so controlled. Always so untouchable.

Yet tonight, there had been nothing collected about him. Not in the way he pushed that guy off me, or in the way he made me cry from coming so hard.

I could feel my pulse picking up, as the car seemed to get warmer.

Trevor didn’t seem to feel it. I glanced at him, his gaze fixed ahead.

He drove like he did everything else except fuck – controlled, precise. One hand on the wheel, the other resting near the shifter, fingers relaxed but aware. Trevor Kaito Su carried himself like someone who knew exactly how much damage he could do.

The perfect, sharp cut of his jaw and cheekbones.

The perfect, straight line of his nose.

The perfect, clean shave on his face.

The perfect, bulging muscles in his arms.

The perfect, fitting suit on him–

When he turned to glance at me, I immediately looked away, feeling my face burn with embarrassment.

God. What was wrong with me?

The car slowed, the headlights sweeping over a dark alley before coming to a stop.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, more breathless than I would’ve liked to admit, finally realizing he’d driven past SoHo and into Chinatown.

Getting out and rounding the hood to open my door. The Ferrari didn’t belong here, all sleek muscle and wealth against the cracked pavement. “You hungry or not?”

I hesitated. I was, but that wasn’t the point.

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