Page 22 of Kiss Me, Mr. Bridge

A few weeks.

The thought of another man touching her makes my blood boil. I grab her hand, perhaps harder than necessary, and lead her toward the elevator.

“Where are we going?”

“To eat.”

“We’re going out?” Lucia narrows her eyes. “It’s not Friday.”

“I haven’t eaten today.”

“Isn’t that risky if you’re scared of us being caught?”

“We’re going to Boston.” When the elevator doors open, I place an umbrella over her head as I guide her through the rain to where James waits with the town car door open.

She slides across the leather seat. I follow, pressing the button for the privacy glass. The car moves away from the club. The place I never normally leave during the week. I planned to take Lucia on Friday evening, but I needed to see her earlier.

“Boston?” she repeats.

“I know of an amazing restaurant. I've taken Olivia there a few times when I’ve been in town.” Rain pelts against the windows, creating a cozy bubble inside the warm interior.

“She might be there.”

I laugh as the street lights blur past as we merge into traffic. “She’s a medical student. I pay her course fees and give her an allowance, but my daughter is not stupid to waste her money on expensive restaurants.”

“She might have found a rich doctor,” I joke.

I laugh. “Amelia, yes, but not Olivia.”

Amelia and Olivia are twins, yet they are so different.

I trace my fingers along her bare leg, feeling her shiver as I move higher. “Your skin is like silk.”

“Don’t.” But she doesn’t move away.

The city lights paint shadows across her face. My hand continues its slow path up her thigh, watching her breath catch.

“Open your legs.”

She glares at me. “Mr. Bridge—”

“Ronan.”

“Your driver might see.”

“The glass is one way, Lucia.” I lean closer, my lips near her ear. “Are you going to be a good girl and let me please you?”

“Please me, Mr. Bridge?” Her voice comes out breathy.

“Yes.” My fingers draw circles on her inner thigh. “I’ve regretted every minute of letting you walk away from me and notgiving you what you deserved. I’m not that kind of man. I like to please.”

Her eyes lock on mine, pupils dilated in the dim light as thunder crashes outside, and her legs part slowly.

“That’s my good girl,” I whisper in her ear. My lips touch her lobe.

That’s not kissing.

I haven’t gone against the sodden agreement.

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