What a stupid thought. He wasn’t a car. He was a man and probably wouldn’t appreciate being driven anywhere.
Yet try as I might to concentrate on the road ahead of me, the thought wouldn’t go away.
He was muscular and powerful, just like one of the Pythons. Would he take me on a wild ride if I put my hand on him? He probably wouldn’t be as easy to drive, but he’d certainly be as hot. And he’d be hard, too, and the rumble of his engine...
There was a throb between my legs, a hot, raw feeling that I wasn’t sure how to handle. I’d never felt this before, not for anyone, not even for my one lone high-school boyfriend.
Still think it’s static?
Okay, no. It wasn’t static. It was attraction. But that didn’t make things any easier, because I still didn’t know what to do about it.
Sex is what people usually do about it.
I glared out of the front windscreen as I manoeuvred the giant car through the narrow Parisian streets.
Sex was not happening. I’d had it a couple of times with that one single boyfriend and it had been nice but forgettable. Certainly not worth trying it with Mr Evans, even if he had been interested, which I was sure he wasn’t. Not given the woman he was with now.
Anyway, he was clearly a man who was used to being in charge and, after Mark and his handsy ways, I wasn’t keen on letting any guy take charge of me.
Apart from anything else, I was supposed to be asking him for more time on the Australis investment, not...anything else.
The lights were red at the intersection ahead of me so I stopped, irritatingly conscious of Mr Evans’s voice rumbling again, followed by more feminine laughter and then a soft gasp.
Don’t look. Don’t look.
I wasn’t going to look. I wasn’t curious. I didn’t need to see what was happening behind me.
Of course I looked.
And the way the rear-view mirror was positioned gave me the perfect view of one of his large hands cupping her breast over the fabric of her dress, his thumb moving lazily back and forth over her nipple.
I blinked, a weird flashback hitting me. Of how Mark had grabbed me from behind, squeezing me and pinching me, and how it had hurt. He’d been rough and I’d been taken by surprise, unable to jerk away until it was too late.
Yet the woman didn’t seem to find what Mr Evans was doing to her unpleasant. She was arching into his hand as if wanting more. And...it seemed as if he was holding her carefully, his thumb moving gently, lightly...
Unexpectedly, my own nipples hardened, pressing against the cotton of my bra, and I had to jerk my gaze away, my face flaming.
Bloody hell, what was I thinking? Staring at my clients wasn’t at all professional. And as for getting turned on by it...
No. Just no.
The light changed colour and I put my foot on the accelerator, determined to ignore what I’d just seen.
But Mr Evans made another of those deep, purring sounds and it shivered through me, making my mouth go dry and the throb in my sex even more intense.
Was it the blonde making him sound like that? And why? What was she doing?
Madness. I shouldn’t even want to look again, let alone be battling the s
udden and intense desire to do just that.
Another set of lights was up ahead, turning red as soon as I approached.
I wasn’t going to look. I wasn’t.
But I couldn’t help myself. I did.
His hand had moved to her butt, curving around it possessively, while hers had shifted from his chest and down between his powerful thighs, her fingers spread as she cupped him through his jeans, her red nails standing out against the blue denim.