CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 17

NEENA

William’s car growled down my driveway, and I was pleased to see that he’d chosen one of the exotic sports cars that lined his garage. It was a good sign. The tight quarters, the roar of the engine between our legs, the feeling of power and recklessness that he’d have behind the wheel . . . it’d all set the right tone.

I locked the side entrance behind me, letting my gaze sweep appreciatively over the car as I approached and opened the door. “Wow.” I grabbed the handle and slid one stiletto into the footwell, making a careful entrance that exposed as much leg as possible.

He noticed. I could feel him stare, saw the tightening of his hand on the gearshift as he watched me settle into the bucket seat and pull the door closed. It felt immediately intimate, the engine’s noise muting, the air conditioner stirring up the mixture of male and female scents, his cologne intoxicatingly close.

“Do you need more room for your legs? That seat moves back farther.”

“Oh yes. That’d be great.” I fumbled on the side, peering at the door and then feeling along the bottom of the seat, looking for the controls.

He chuckled. “It’s not—may I?” He unbuckled his seat belt.

“Sure.” I blushed, then stiffened as he reached in between my legs, the arm of his suit brushing against my knees as he reached under the seat and lifted a lever.

“Push back with your feet.” His words came out against my left thigh, and I obeyed, the chair clicking back and giving me another six inches of room. He released the lever and straightened. Was it just my imagination, or was his face red? “It’s old school. It’s funny, you pay this much for a car, you’d think it would have power seats.”

I smiled. “I like it. Now . . .” I looked at the seat-belt harness in faux confusion.

“Here, let me help you.” He reached over, pulling the belt over my head. “You have to put your arms through—yeah. Like that.” His eyes met mine, and it was the closest we’d ever been. His hands brushing against my blouse as he tightened the straps. His mouth, just inches from mine, his breath soft and warm against my lips.

“You smell good,” he said quietly. “Really good.”

With another man, this would be my moment. I’d grip his shirt. Let my eyes go soft, my lips part. Run my hand down to cup the bulge in his pants.

But this wasn’t another man, and with William, he had to be the one to initiate things, or else I would never land him. I glanced down as if shy. “Thank you. And thank you for giving me a ride. I don’t know what’s wrong with my car.”

He straightened up and reclipped his own belt. “We’re going to the same place. It’s no trouble. And if we didn’t have this team meeting, I’d take a look at it.” He frowned. “But Matt’s good with cars, right? Didn’t he restore that Corvette himself?”

Ugh. That Corvette. I hated that stupid muscle car. It was one thing to drive it around our old middle-class neighborhood, but he insisted we take it out on Atherton dates as well. “He did,” I said lightly. “But I called the dealership. They’re going to tow mine in and fix it under warranty. Do you mind bringing me to work for the next few days? I can get Matt to give me a ride home.”

There was the sort of pause that a man makes when he doesn’t want to say no but shouldn’t say yes. Ned Plymouth once made that pause. It didn’t turn out well for him.

“A few days?” He stalled. This hesitation was Cat, I knew it. I’d heard her in the background, huffing and puffing when I’d called—in an almost tearful panic—asking him for a ride.

“They said it should be fixed by Thursday, Friday at the latest.” The dealership, which hadn’t batted an eye when I told them I would be towing in my car for a full-service detail, had promised a twenty-four-hour turnaround time. I had pushed back, telling them to keep it until Friday, a directive they had happily accepted. “Thank you so much.” I sighed in relief, taking the assumptive approach and silently daring him to combat it. “Can you believe this warm front we’ve had? It’s amazing.”

He paused, and I could feel him weighing whether to continue the conversation or let it ride. “Yeah, it’s been nice.” He shifted, putting the powerful car into second as he pulled out of our drive.

We moved around the curve, and I looked back at their estate, unsurprised to see Cat watching us from the front balcony, her arms crossed over her chest. It had been a risky move, the carpool play. But I needed some time with him away from the office. Inside that fishbowl, his guard was up and eyes were everywhere. Alone in this car, I could reach over and grab his hand and no one would know. We could kiss.

Not that I would do any of that yet. It was only Monday. I had an entire week to get him to let his prickly guard down a little. Who knew what things could look like by Friday?

William upshifted into third, and his hand brushed against my bare knee. I didn’t move it away, and he kept his grip on the gearshift, our bodies connected through the contact. The breath tumbled out of him and, against my knee, the edge of his pinkie moved in just the slightest, smallest way. I knotted my hands in my lap as if I were nervous and turned my head to look out the window. I settled deeper in the seat, opening my thighs and stretching out my legs, inviting—begging him for—more.

After a long moment, his finger moved again. Farther this time, a drag of his index finger upward along my knee. This was it. William Winthorpe was touching me. Practically caressing me. It had taken over seven weeks of me working at Winthorpe. Slow-growing chemistry. Longer looks. Casual run-ins that I spent all day engineering. All worth it for this moment—the first crack in the facade of his monogamy. After this, things would be easy, a crumble of resistance until we were both undressed and William was falling fully into my trap.

Inside, my emotions warred between the possibilities he held. Maybe my fantasies over grilled cheese were possible, and he’d fall in love and make me the next Mrs. Winthorpe.

Maybe this would be just sex and pay off in orgasms and emotional superiority over Cat, followed quickly by blackmailing William and a big financial payday.

I didn’t really care which path the trap took. I needed another stepping-stone up in the world, and William would give it to me. With or without love. With or without a wife by his side, or a husband at mine.

This was a chess match over my future, and—as with Ned—I was going to win.