“I played just as much a part in what happened that night between us as you did,” she finally said. Keeping her gaze locked on her hands folded in her lap, she continued. “I would never blame you for what happened.?
??
“Even though you asked me to stop.”
“I asked you to stop and you did. That made me respect you more.” It was true. He hadn’t pushed, he hadn’t tried to convince her to keep going. And despite everything, she’d wanted to. If she’d been careless, like her younger, much more foolish self, she would’ve definitely let more happen.
They remained silent for a long stretch, and she turned away from him, staring out the window. The car was moving at a snail’s pace, the traffic heavy since it was a Saturday night, and she nibbled on her lower lip in thought. She could feel him, smell him. Angling her head just so, she glanced in his direction and checked him out, turning away before he caught her.
He was so close, so dangerously sexy sprawled in his seat, the jacket long forgotten, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows. Those couple of undone buttons at the neck of his shirt revealed a wedge of firm, tanned chest that was covered in a sprinkling of dark chest hairs.
Gracie gulped, clenching her hands together so tightly her knuckles turned white. He seemed perfectly capable and in control, and she wanted to fling herself at him like a mad woman. Why couldn’t she keep it together when it came to Hunter Worth? What was it about him that drove her out of her mind with lust?
And why did the thought of allowing him to get close to her, to learn all of her secrets and what made her tick, not scare her?
Her thoughts were crazy. Reckless. She’d been reckless long ago, when she was a teen and so angry with the world and her circumstances she’d let caution fly. Done such wild and ridiculous things that, luckily enough, she’d survived. Supervision had been practically nil growing up. Foster parents hadn’t given a crap about her, not really. Her real family was nowhere to be found.
She wouldn’t wish her childhood on her worst enemy.
A lonely, angry girl who learned from her mistakes and grew up, that was Gracie. After dropping out of high school, she got her GED. Went to college and got a degree. Stopped drinking, stopped doing drugs, stopped fooling around with guys who were complete losers and made her feel bad about herself.
Hunter represented something that Gracie hadn’t faced in years. Dangerous, terrifying risk. And for the first time in years, tonight she was almost willing to jump off the cliff and fly into the unknown.
Looking at him once more, warmth filled her and her muscles turned loose and languid. Something about this particular risk didn’t seem so scary. She was an adult, and a responsible one at that. Sometimes indulgence was a good thing.
His gaze met hers, and he smiled, slow and sexy. The sight of it made her head spin. “Traffic’s bad,” he murmured.
She nodded, not fighting the hazy feeling that threatened to sweep over her. How easy it would be to let it take her. Not worry about any major decisions and just go with her gut. “Uh-huh.”
His eyes heated, smoldering in their intensity and he reached across the seat, his hand coming precariously close to hers. “We’re in solid gridlock. It’ll take hours to get out of Manhattan.”
Gracie pressed her lips together, shifting her body off the edge of the seat and closer to him, as if she had no control. Hours to get out of Manhattan? She had the distinct feeling he was exaggerating. “What do you suggest we do?” Oh, what was she doing? What was she saying? Had she lost her mind?
His hand finally connected with hers, and he tangled their fingers together. Her entire body tingled at that first gentle touch. “We could wait it out at my place. Just for an hour or so. I’ll be on my best behavior, I swear it.”
Maybe she didn’t want him on his best behavior. Maybe she wanted him to be bad. Extremely bad.
Her breath lodged in her throat, and she watched as he rubbed his fingers against hers, his thumb brushing across the top of her hand. Feather-light and oh-so seductive, she wanted more. She wanted it all.
She wanted Hunter Worth, and damn the consequences.
“All right,” she said softly, shock filling her that she’d actually agreed.
The triumph that lit his eyes was unmistakable. “You won’t regret it, Gracie. I promise.”
She could only hope he was right.
Despite the gridlocked traffic, they made it to his apartment within fifteen minutes. They hadn’t talked much, which hadn’t bothered him. His mind was awhirl with what could potentially happen with Gracie. He remained mum for fear of saying the wrong thing and sending her packing. She was so deathly quiet he wondered if she was making a mental list as to why she should reject him on sight.
But she kept her hand in his. That seemingly innocent physical contact was driving him absolutely wild.
Her slender, elegant fingers wrapped around his, the cool press of her palm. She stroked him softly, her touch like a whisper, and his body reacted swiftly.
Hunter had a raging erection and hoped like hell she didn’t notice as they entered his apartment.
“Oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous.” She stopped in the middle of the living area and stared at the floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was breathtaking, Manhattan lain out before them like a glittering, never-ending blanket. “You can see everything.”
“You like it?” He sounded like a jaded ass, but most of the time he didn’t even notice the view anymore. He’d lived there for over five years. One became accustomed to their surroundings rather quickly, and he was so busy with work, he was rarely home anyway.