Page 9 of Getting Lucky in London

And judging from the pulsing cock between my legs,hewanted to fuckme.

Well, his dick did. Maybe his brain didn’t.

God, I’d done what I feared most when coming out tonight. I’d made a fool of myself, throwing myself at him like I’d seen the college girls do after his games. Social media had been full of videos with giggling females flashing their boobs at him.

Bile rose in my throat and my nose burned as moisture gathered in my eyes. I released my tight grasp on his hair and crawled off his lap. Shoving my dress back in place to cover my damp thighs, I faced the window. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” His hand fell to my thigh again, and he leaned closer to whisper, “I’m not. I love how hot you are right now, even as you sulk.”

“I’m not—”

“And if you knew how badly I want to lay you down on this seat, drive balls deep, and make you come all over my dick, you’d know exactly how sorry I’m not.”

Another shudder rippled through me. My nipples beaded, and my core clenched. A streak of pleasure zipped back and forth between the two. Though I’d been just as crude earlier, Michael’s erotic words aroused me more than they should have. No one had ever said things like that to me. “Then why—”

“I don’t think this fellow deserves a free show, and I’m too possessive to share a view of your sweet little ass with him.” He leaned back in the seat but kept his hand on my leg, his index finger teasing circles on the inside of my knee. “Besides, we should introduce ourselves, don’t you think?”

Huh?

“I’m Michael,” he went on. “Michael Winters. I’m pleased to meet you…”

I whirled to face him, confusion slamming hard into my alcohol-ridden and lust-rattled brain. Had he really just introduced himself? Surely, he was kidding. But the patient anticipation on his face said he wasn’t.

“And you are…” he prompted once more, confirming my thoughts as he released my thigh and swung his arm around my shoulders to draw me into his side. He nuzzled my ear with his nose.

“Danielle,” I murmured.

There.Now, he would figure it out. After all, he’d been at the gallery to meet Dominic and Sarah and…me.

“Mmm, lovely name. It suits you.” He kissed my neck, then looked at me. “And do you have a last name, Danielle?”

Nothing. No recognition in his eyes or voice. Then it dawned on me. He’d expected Dominic and Sarah andDaisy. He probably didn’t know my real name.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry, par for the course of the evening. Finally, after years of dreaming about it, I’d garnered his notice. He wanted me. Yet he didn’t. Not Daisy. He wanted Danielle, a stranger.

My gaze traveled over that firm jaw, lightly sprinkled with stubble. He watched me with hooded eyes. I couldn’t fathom it. We’d flirted and exchanged sexually intoxicating innuendos, and the whole time I’d only been a random hookup to him.

What difference does it make? Any of it? The point is, hewantsme.

And I want him even if he doesn’t know who I am.

“You don’t have a last name?” he teased.

Despite the turmoil raging in my head, I laughed, and tension eased from my muscles. I could work with this new situation, continue the game of fun and flirtation we’d started. I’d deal with the fallout tomorrow.

I laid a palm on his chest and fingered the crisp hair at the vee of his shirt. “A woman is allowed a few mysteries.”

“I bet you have more than a few.” The deep rumble of his voice soothed more of the jagged edges of my pride.

I tilted her head to one side and lifted a brow in challenge. “You’re welcome to uncover as many as you dare.”

With a groan, he scooted forward, the movement taking me with him. He tapped on the window between us and the cab driver. “Can you go a little faster?”

Chapter Three

Danielle

The taxi pulled to a stop in front of a row of two-story flats. Michael opened the door, and I followed him out of the cab. I leaned into him as he paid the driver, not because I couldn’t stand on my own. The dizzying effects of the champagne were wearing off, but I preferred his closeness.

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