The Interview
: Chapter 15

The car is silent but for the swish of tires against the road, and we’ve barely spoken since Mimi’s direction. Why did El have to choose a club so far away from my place? I’m pretty sure I’ll combust before we get there.

“Whit?” I no sooner turn my head than words tumble from her mouth like water over rocks. “I’ve never had sex in a car before.”

I almost groan. Combust? I’m pretty sure I’m about to bust a nut. I’m not in the habit of denying myself but having Mimi so close to me, day in and day out, has been torture. I wake in the morning to the phantom feel of her riding my fingertips, then spend my days trying not to stare at her arse while mentally undressing her. It’s been torture—a pure, ball-aching torture that I’ve tried hard to ignore. I know I said I wouldn’t, and I know it’s wrong, and if I was Connor, I’d be rattling more than chains at the bottom of my bed, but fuck it all to hell, how can I not want her when she’s just so fucking adorable.

Full of truth and enthusiasm.

I’ve never known anyone like her. Never wanted anyone like I want her. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up reciting the periodic table in my head. That or embarrassing myself.

“George?” His eyes flick to the mirror at his name. “Have we got any booze in this thing?” I spend a fair chunk of time being ferried back and forth from the airport by him, but I’m always working. I’ve never thought to ask before.

“Mini fridge in the center console, Guv.” He leans forward and flicks on the radio. The sound system fills the front of the car, not the back. Tactful, right?

Opening the console, I cast my eyes over the contents. “Would you like—”

“Oh, like a plane,” she says, peering at the miniature bottles. “Do you have a soda?”

I half lift a couple of the tiny soda cans, but she shakes her head with a murmured, “No, thanks.”

Grabbing a glass, I select a bottle of Laphroaig and twist off the lid before dumping it in. “I wasn’t about to ask if you’d like a drink.” I glance up from under my lashes in such a way she can’t miss my meaning.

Her eyes wide, her head swinging to the driver and back again. “Rude!” But then. “You mean… now?”

Her head slices sharply George’s way, and I chuckle. I can’t tell if she’s thinking about it, titillated, or scandalized.

Maybe all of the above.

“There really isn’t enough room.” My pelvis tilts as I stretch back, an action she doesn’t fail to notice.

“We could make it work.” Her voice drops, her eyes along with it. My body prickles pleasurably as she takes me in. “The seats recline, don’t they?”

“And you, what? Climb over this.” I pat the polished teak console, though my attention is on her tight dress. “Should I ask George to pull over? I’m sure you wouldn’t want him to watch.” I find myself sucking in a sharp immediate breath as she leans over me, curving her dainty hand over my thigh. A quicksilver pleasure shoots through me, my balls drawing tight and the hairs on the back of my neck standing high.

“So thick.” The muscles flex beneath her fingers like a warning.

“I’m learning all kinds of things about you tonight.”

“Meaning?” Her attention lifts, her breath sweet on my face.

“That you’re either a tease or an exhibitionist.”

“I said I’d never had sex in a car. Does that sound like I want to be watched?”

“So you’re a tease.”

“So, so thick.” Her gaze dips to my crotch, the dig of her nails harder now. “Think of it more as a prelude. Since yesterday, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that other thick part of you.” The word is all curling tongue and filthy intent.

“Amelia.”

“You love making a warning out of my name, don’t you?”

“I love it as much as you love making me do it.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t make it so hard for me.”

Under her hand, I flex my thigh muscle again. “You have no idea how hard.”

Her eyes darken as she leans closer, her eyes dipping to my mouth. “Poor Whit.” She slides her thumb across the tiny cut. “Does it hurt?”

“Sweetheart, the part of my anatomy that’s hurting is a little farther south than my mouth.”

She stifles a smile. “Should I kiss it better?” She pouts, playing the part to perfection. My balls throb, and if it’s possible, my cock becomes even harder. She only needs to move her hand a few inches and…

And George would probably get a very good show.

My heart ticks up as Mimi suddenly reaches out, her breasts brushing my arm as she lifts the crystal tumbler from my hand. I feel the loss of her heat immediately as she sits back in her seat.

“Is it good?” She doesn’t give me time to answer before tipping the contents down her throat. She comes up spluttering, the alcohol burn obviously not quite what she expected. “W-why!”

I chuckle as she gives a violent, whole-body shiver. “You don’t like whisky?”

“I’ve never had it before.” She shivers again, but not quite so severely. And the face she pulls? It’s a picture of violent distaste.

“It’s meant to be savored.”

“It tastes like soil and burns like fire.” She begins to cough, and I jerk forward, aborting the movement when her hand flutters to her chest and she gives a tiny huff of a laugh. “Why would anyone drink that? Not for the taste, that’s for sure.”

“Again, it’s not meant to be thrown down your neck.”

“Mmm, but it’s spicy now,” she murmurs, rubbing at a spot in the middle of her breastbone. “Warm and tingly,” she adds, rubbing her lips together provocatively.

This time, I don’t bite. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have plans to do so later.

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