Clare Connelly - The Debt / Cross My Hart

She might have been trying to make a joke of it, but I heard the note of challenge in her husky voice and it hit me like a shot of adrenaline, making my cock even harder than it was already.

Fuck, she had guts confronting me like that.

Respect stirred inside me even as my anger deepened, mostly at myself for not simply getting out of the car and going after the blonde, whom I could at least have in my bed without all these moral quandaries.

And it didn’t help that she was right. I should have put the partition up. But I hadn’t. Because I liked her watching.

My jaw ached, tension crawling through my shoulders.

I’d come out of the club so pleased with myself, because my meeting with Delaney had gone extremely well. My price for the islands was significantly more than what Dumont had offered him and he’d been into the idea. Though not without a few unexpected caveats.

The islands had been in his family for years and he had a certain sentimental attachment to them, going on to tell me that he’d hoped to sell them to someone who was family-minded, too.

I wasn’t family-minded in the slightest, but to get those islands away from Dumont, I could pretend, so I’d muttered some nonsense about a girlfriend and how we were looking to get serious. Delaney had been surprised, but very positive, and told me he’d be in touch in a couple of days, likely with good news.

It had all been very satisfying. As had been the prospect of a couple of hours’ pleasure with the blonde.

But not now. Now the thought of the blonde left me cold.

Get out of the car, you stupid bastard.

I should get out of the car. Not sit here, hard and annoyed because I wanted a woman I shouldn’t touch.

But I didn’t.

And she was still looking at me in the rear-view mirror, gold glowing through the green in her eyes, like the sun through leaves on a hot summer’s day. Making me realise that I was cold and had been for quite some time.

Except the gold in her eyes now was different from the sunny cheerfulness of before. There was a smoky heat to it that was definitely not forced.

Where there’s heat, there’s fire.

Oh, yes, I could see hints of that fire now, glowing embers in her gaze that wouldn’t take much to ignite…

‘You shouldn’t look at me like that.’ My voice was rough and harsh in the dense silence of the car. ‘Not if you’re not ready to face the consequences.’

‘What consequences?’ Her hands were curled around the steering wheel, making me think of how it might feel to have those delicate fingers wrapped around my cock.

Did she really have no idea? Could she not feel this tension between us? Static, she’d said back at the hotel, a response that had seemed genuine. Which meant she was probably inexperienced.

Yet another reason for me to get the fuck out of the car and not sit here like a bloody fool, staring into her pretty gold eyes.

‘What consequences do you think?’ I snapped, my temper getting a mean edge. ‘I don’t want to fire you, Miss Little. I want to fuck you.’

Shock flickered over her face. ‘What?’

‘Don’t act so surprised. Did you really think those little glances you kept stealing wouldn’t get me as hard as a rock?’

She blinked rapidly. ‘Uh… Are you sure you’re not talking about the blonde chick? I mean, she was the one who had her hand on…um…you.’

Was she serious? Or was she playing with me? Some women liked that kind of game, but I didn’t. I preferred straight-up honesty, especially when it came to sex.

However, there was no doubting the surprise in Ellie’s eyes: she really had thought it was the blonde.

‘No, I’m not talking about the “blonde chick”,’ I said, increasingly annoyed at the hard-on in my jeans and my apparent inability to get the fuck out of the car and away from her. ‘You kept looking at me like you wanted to join in.’

Her cheeks turned an even deeper red. ‘I didn’t want to join in.’

‘No? Then why did you keep staring?’

‘I…’ She looked away. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. That wasn’t very professional.’

‘Screw being professional. Just answer the bloody question. And look at me when I’m talking to you.’

She stiffened then abruptly twisted around in her seat so she was facing me, the dusting of freckles across her nose even more fascinating close up without the distancing effect of the mirror.

Gone was the cheerful smile. Green sparks of anger danced in her eyes instead and they were every bit as interesting as her freckles.

‘Look, you’re being a bit bloody rude,’ she said flatly. ‘I’d heard of your reputation, but seriously, mate, you need to tone it down. I’m just doing my job.’

Mate? She’d really just called me ‘mate’?

This pretty little thing in her chauffeur’s cap, who didn’t know what the hell she was getting into, thought she could talk to me like that? Because if so, she really did have no idea what she was doing.

I was a man who liked a fight, who was all about the challenge. And if that challenge was a pretty woman I could get down and dirty and sweaty and raw with? Who I could take apart with pleasure, make her beg, make her want all kinds of filthy things?

Fuck, yes.

Which made me too much for this sweet-faced girl, no matter how badly she called to the warrior in me.

The blonde would have been able to handle me. The blonde knew what she was getting into.

You don’t want the blonde.

And that was the problem. I didn’t.

‘Say that again, and there will be consequences.’ I didn’t disguise the naked threat in my voice. It was explicit.

She didn’t appear to hear it. ‘So you keep saying. What exactly are these consequences, then?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘If you’re too bloody afraid to say them out loud then maybe you shouldn’t go throwing vague threats around.’ Gold glittered briefly in her eyes. ‘Mate.’

If that wasn’t a gauntlet thrown down, I didn’t know what was.

Exhilaration pulsed through me and I leaned forward, getting in her face, giving her a taste of what it would be like to tangle with me and enjoying the way her breath caught in response.

‘You’re a pretty thing, Miss Little. And pretty things shouldn’t mess with men like me.’

‘Pretty thing?’ she echoed, incredulous. ‘Dude, seriously?’

‘You’re pretty and you’re a little thing.’ I leaned forward even more, getting closer. ‘And I eat pretty little things for breakfast.’

We were almost nose to nose, but she didn’t move away or back down. She was so close. Close enough for me to see the fine grain of her skin and the sparks of gold and green glowing in her eyes. To feel the heat of her body and smell the warm, musky scent of her.

Her pulse beat fast at the base of her throat and her mouth looked soft and kissable. Fuckable, too.

‘That’s not at all patronising.’ She glared at me. ‘How would you like it if I called you…big dick or something?’

Oh, yes, I was getting to her. I very definitely was.

Desire spiked in my blood, a hot, raw feeling. ‘I’d like it just fine,’ I said roughly, trying to resist the urge to grab her hand, draw it over my fly and hold it down so she could feel how big I actually was.

She went scarlet and I didn’t miss the way her gaze dropped to my groin, where my cock was pressing hard against the denim. ‘Of course you would,’ she muttered. ‘But firstly, I’m not pretty or a thing. And secondly, you’re not…uh…’ She stopped.

‘Big?’ I finished. ‘Are you sure about that?’

Her hazel gaze flicked up, the fire I’d sensed in her beginning to ignite. ‘What? You want me to check?’ She sounded defiant and angry, yet the heat in her eyes told a different story.