“I’ll arrange for somebody to pick it up and take a look at it.”
She sighs, and I can read the sigh, all the different worries nestled within it.
“And don’t worry about the cost,” I say on impulse, rage working its way through me when I think about my talented queen wasting her time stressing about this crap.
“What?” She turns to me, shaking her head. “Trent, I can’t let you do that.”
You’ll find a way to repay me, I want to roar, but somehow I pull the words back.
That’s twice we’ve been interrupted when I was going to kiss her, first by Mrs. Pennyworth and then, worse, by the phone call with Angela. Surely that’s a sign that I need to fight my instinct to claim her, batter it down with uncompromising hands so I don’t ruin what we have… whatever the fuck that is.
What we have?
I barely know this woman.
And yet that thought sounds absurd.
I feel like I know her better than I know myself. She’s going to give me a family. I’m going to dedicate myself to her for the rest of my life.
“You can and you will,” I say firmly.
She’s silent for a while, breathing softly, making me think about how she’d sound as I drive inside of her, burying myself to the hilt as I kept my gaze on her to track the way she twitched and shivered and sighed for me.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks softly.
I’m thinking that the road is deserted and the forest offers ample shade and privacy. I’m thinking about pulling over and smoothing my hands up her bare thighs, pressing my palm down on the place between her legs, grinding relentlessly until she’s begging for more, more, more until she’s drenching the seat with her release.
But I can’t tell her that. I have to think of Angela.
“This is a nice drive,” I say inanely.
She giggles. “Why do I feel like that’s a lie?”
I glance at her. She’s smiling. It makes her face bright, young, beautiful.
Mine.
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. Your tone of voice, I guess.”
I chuckle, squeezing the steering wheel hard to stop myself from lashing my hand out to her leg.
The desire to squeeze those shapely thighs, to slide my hand up and up until she’s screaming at me to finger her tight wet slit…
Fuck, it’s killing me.
“You can read my tone of voice now, can you, Snapshot?”
She giggles. “Snapshot?”
“I thought that was what everybody called you,” I banter.
“Yeah, when I was like fifteen and obsessed with those disposable cameras.”
I shrug. “I think it’s cute.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Watching you today, seeing how intense you are about your work, I respect that. I respect how seriously you take it. You’ll make it your career one day, Tess. I know you will.”
Because I’m going to support you, I almost tell her. Every step of the way, I’ll be there. You won’t have to go through this alone.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “But I’ve sort of accepted that it might just be a hobby. I mean, I’d love it if it was my career. But I’ve got to be realistic, you know?”
“No,” I snarl, with more passion than I intended. “I don’t fucking know. I saw how much you care about it. Out there, every second you were with your camera, it was like… shit, Tess, it was like the real you was coming out.”
I need to stop.
But I can’t.
We’re meant to be together.
“I’m thankful I got to see it,” I go on, unable to stop as if something else has taken over me.
“Trent,” she whispers, a moan beneath her voice.
She folds her arms across herself, hugging tightly, causing her breasts to bulge around her forearms. I’m glad I’m driving so I can’t look at her for too long.
“I know,” I say, my voice gruff.
She lets out a hollow laugh. I can feel her looking at me, searching for answers.
“You know? What do you know?”
“I know we can’t do this,” I snarl. “I know it’s wrong.”
She flinches and lets out a short breath, surprise laden in the noise, as though she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing.
“What?” she says.
I laugh gruffly. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what’s going on here, Tessa. Ever since I stepped into the diner, I’ve wanted you. I know you can tell. I know you feel the same.”
The quality of her breathing changes, getting airier, more high-pitched, the same way she’ll sound when I’m driving up between her thighs and claiming her in the way she deserves, needs to be claimed.
“Is this a joke?”
“A joke?” I growl, fighting the urge to whip the car into a hard turn, drive us deep into the forest, and finding a quiet spot to show her just how much I’m not joking.
“Yeah. I don’t understand why you’d say that.”
“Because it’s the truth. What did you think I was going to do before Angela called? I was going to kiss you, Tess. I was going to kiss you, hard, because I can’t fucking fight this anymore.”