Page 44 of Enthrall
And I wasn’t wearing any frickin panties. He’d ripped them off in that dungeon to get better access to my butt. My left hand clutched at my skirt, holding it down. He and Cameron were rogues. My face threatened to burst into flames from the memory of what they had done to me in that dungeon. My groin throbbed with the thought of it and I rested my head back, reeling.
Although I’d had some idea of where my career may lead, this was way off. I never imagined I’d end up in some crazy work environment where the usual boundaries were not so much lacking as nonexistent.
Richard slid the Jeep into fifth gear. I wondered why he’d not bought the automatic version. My gaze rested upon his hands, those strong fingers of his clutching the wheel, having not so long ago held me in the grip of pleasure. I wondered if he ever would again.
I let out a slow soothing breath.
I’d left my car back at Enthrall and was now terrified he’d drop me home and fire me, leaving me stranded tomorrow. Maybe Bailey could drive me down to pick up my Mini? The view fell away fast, along with the hypnotic headlights on the other side heading south.
Richard changed the radio station to a talk show. The host chatted away in an east coast accent about a building in New York. After a few minutes he changed it again.
Even off the freeway Richard drove the Jeep hard, turning sharp onto Ventura and navigating his way through Studio City like he knew the place. Having handed over my address on my application, I could only assume that’s where he’d gotten it from. Richard hadn’t asked for it and yet that’s where we were headed. The familiarity of the stores and restaurants brought some comfort. We soon passed my local Coffee Bean, as well as that upscale boutique I could never afford to shop in and my neighborhood Ralphs.
We pulled up outside my building and Richard parked. With his seatbelt off, he turned to look at me, casually resting his head against his palm, his elbow on the headrest.
“I felt fine to drive,” I said, though it was a mute point now.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine. You?”
“Never better.” He arched a brow. “I want to apologize.”
“No need.”
“I’d give you the name of a good lawyer I know...but he’s so good you’d win your case against me.”
“Is that your attempt at humor?”
“Yes.”
“You might want to work on that. Please don’t fire me.”
“May I come in?” He glanced over my shoulder.
I wasn’t expecting that.
“I don’t have any coffee,” I said.
“I promise you what happened back at Enthrall will never happen again.” He nodded to make his point.
I mirrored his nod, not quite sure what to say.
“Scarlet used to live in Studio City.” He removed the keys from the ignition. “You’d never get her out of Santa Monica now.” He opened the door and came round to my side.
My hand barely released my seatbelt when he’d opened the door for me.
“Where do you live?” I said, grateful for his hand helping me down.
“Malibu.”
“In an apartment?”
“I bought a house a few years ago.”
“Do you live alone?”
His gaze locked with mine. “No.”
