She tugs at the short hair at the back. “Anything?”
At this point in my life, I’m closer to being able to give her anything than I’ve ever been before. And when she looks at me like this, there’s nothing I could deny her.
“Yeah, baby. Anything.”
She wiggles her ass in my lap and presses her lips to my jaw. If I kiss her right now, there’s a good chance that I’m going to fuck her in the backseat of this car, and that’s not something I’m willing to have an audience for. Especially not her driver, who is just about to pull open the door.
Thank fuck we’re only ten minutes from her building.
“Can you make it quick, Ed?”
“Of course, sir.”
Ed, the trusty driver, looks at me with Greer on my lap in the rearview mirror. I see the look of judgment before he schools his expression. Big Brother is probably going to be receiving a full report as soon as Ed drops us off.
I may not have all the money Creighton Karas does, but I’m not opposed to going toe-to-toe with the guy. Or I could just kidnap Greer and take her away to some remote island and keep her there until she’s as addicted to me as I am to her, and her brother’s opinion ceases to matter. As far as I know, she never told him about me before, because I never received a death threat from his camp.
We pull up in front of the building, and Ed hops out and opens the door. I slide out of the car, lifting Greer as I stand, readjusting her in my arms.
Her quick intake of breath signals her surprise. She grips my shoulders tighter, her gaze clashing with mine.
“I’m not gonna let you fall.”
“I can walk. I’m not that drunk.” Her protest is quiet and halfhearted at best.
“And I want you in my arms, so I’m carrying you.” I nod at Ed, who is watching us with eagle eyes. “Good night, sir. Thank you for the ride.”
“Of course, Mr. Westman. Have a good evening.”
I can tell he wants to tell me something else, probably to warn me that I’d better take good care of Greer, but he stays silent.
He doesn’t need to worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to her. I’m capable of protecting her at least as well as he is, and probably better. After all, I’ve got more than money and fear of Creighton Karas motivating me.
Greer waves to the doorman as we head inside. His polite chin raise gives away none of his true thoughts about watching me carry her through the foyer. For a moment, I wonder if this is something he’s seen before, or if he’s really that good at hiding his shock.
“You get carried up to your apartment a lot?”
Greer’s laugh is muffled by my shirt as I elbow the call button for the elevator. “Nope. This is a first for me. I don’t think Tristan could’ve actually picked me up. Maybe that’s why he was always encouraging me to lose weight.”
I already wanted to fuck up this Tristan punk, but even more so now at Greer’s confession.
“Was he mentally defective? What the fuck was the guy’s problem?”
Greer shrugs against my chest as we step inside the elevator and the silver doors glide closed. “He sucked. I’m glad I didn’t let him fuck me in the ass. He could have that redheaded ho for that.”
“Whoa. What?”
She looks up at me, blinking. “That’s what I walked in on. Him fucking a redhead in the ass. She was actually quite polite about the whole thing. Told me I should’ve just let him have at it because you could hardly tell.” She lowers her voice to a stage whisper. “He suffered from pencil-dick-itis. I only got off if I got myself off. God, that’s pathetic.”
Well, at least I know I’ve got that fucker beat in more than one department. There’s nothing pencil-like about my dick, and I know how to make Greer come.
“And you stayed with him because . . .” I let my question trail off. I don’t want to talk about this prick, but my curiosity is strong.
Greer shifts in my hold as the elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open. Her voice is quiet when she finally answers. “I don’t give up. I’m not a quitter. I thought it would get better if I kept working at it. Trying new things. But it didn’t get better. I guess I owe him a thank-you for cutting it off because I didn’t know how to pull the trigger. After I got over the rage and hurt, it was more a relief than anything.”
I hate that she went through that shit, but I’m also really fucking happy she’s not still attached to the guy and nursing a broken heart.
“Anyway, I don’t want to talk about him.” She turns her face up to mine, her lips curving mischievously. “I want to talk about all the dirty things you’re going to do to me, and how hard you’re going to make me come.”
I should be blushing at the things I’m saying to Cav, but something about him destroys my filters. This level of need surging through me is unique to him—totally raw and primal.