She didn’t blink this time. Not once. ‘Yes.’
The word was thick and breathed out, making my fucking cock ache, and I had to grit my teeth against the intense rush of desire.
‘Give me your hand, then.’ I tried not to make it an order.
Without hesitation, she held out her hand and I took it. Her palm was small, her fingers delicate, her skin very soft. Electricity bolted the length of my arm, a direct line straight to my dick.
And she must have felt it, too, because her breath caught, her eyes widening. But she didn’t pull away. If anything, her chin lifted higher.
So I slowly drew her hand to where I wanted it, over the front of my jeans, holding her gaze all the while. And she never once looked away, the fire in her eyes burning brighter, hotter.
I held her palm down, letting her feel how hard I was. Letting the heat of her hand seep through the fabric and into me.
Her pretty mouth became a perfect O of surprise as her fingers closed over my aching hard-on. Then, finally, she looked down. ‘Oh...uh...wow.’
I wasn’t sixteen any more. I didn’t need a woman to look in awe at my cock. So why I felt such pleasure at her reaction I had no idea and, like so many of my interactions with this fascinating woman, it irritated the hell out of me, even as it turned me on.
‘I did tell you,’ I bit out, my voice much rougher than it should have been.
The flush in her cheeks showed no sign of abating. ‘Sorry, that sounded dumb. But seriously...’ Her gaze rose to mine, searching. ‘Does that...uh...feel good? When I touch you, I mean?’
I should have stopped her. I should have taken her hand off me and got out of the car. Because I was crossing a line here and I knew it.
But I didn’t do either of those things.
‘Yes.’ I held her fascinated gaze. ‘It feels fucking good.’
Her mouth curved, as if she was pleased with the news. Then she bit her lower lip, her fingers moving hesitantly over me, tracing the line of my dick through the denim, watching my face intently as she did so.
I’d never been looked at like that before, not even when I’d been street fighting and an opponent was sizing me up. Sex for me was usually about making my partner come and come hard, that was how I got off. They generally didn’t pay me the same attention, mainly because I refused to let them.
So I didn’t know why I was letting her now. But, Christ, it was good. Too good. My muscles went tight, my jaw aching.
‘Wow,’ she murmured for the second time. ‘You’re really hot. Like an engine.’
An engine? What the hell?
But then her fingers spread out and she gave me an experimental squeeze, and all thoughts vanished from my head as a wave of pleasure rolled over me.
‘Fuck,’ I muttered hoarsely, my hands closing into fists to stop myself from reaching for her.
A crease deepened between her silky dark brows. ‘Sorry. Was that too hard?’
‘No.’ I could barely get the word out. ‘But you’re done.’
My control was good but it wasn’t limitless.
‘Oh?’ She frowned. ‘But I haven’t finished checking.’
I glowered, my prick throbbing, lust firing in my blood, my temper in no way helped by the firmness of her grip. ‘Yes, you have. I suggest you take your hand off me now, Miss Little. I’m not made of fucking stone.’
There was an intensity in her stare now, as if she was weighing something up in her head, and she didn’t take her hand away, the heat of her palm destroying me second by tantalising second. ‘Are you sure? I mean... I could do something about it, if you like.’
Oh, Christ.
There were so many fucking reasons not to. She was my employee and I didn’t want to cross that line as my bastard father had with my mother. She was also inexperienced and in no way ready to handle what I wanted from her.
Then again, it had been a long time since I’d been with a woman I’d actually wanted because of who she was and not because of what she represented. A long time since I’d been with a woman who looked at me the way Ellie Little was looking at me, as if she saw the dirty street fighter that still lurked inside me and wasn’t afraid.