As much as I wanted to revel in his approval all day, I was conscious of the fact that he wanted me to leave his house. “Is one of your cars an automatic that I can drive, or should I order a rideshare?” I asked.
“No.” The denial was deep and immediate, his heavy brows drawing together with an expression of censure.
I tried not to squirm at his sudden shift in demeanor. He threw me off-balance, and I didn’t know how to act around him anymore. Things had been so easy between us before. Even when I’d been arguing with him—even when I’d fled from him in a bout of terror—he’d kept himself firmly in my space, captivating me with his reassuring touch. He’d felt too solid for my own good, and I’d taken his staunch presence for granted, imagining that nothing I could do would cause him to reject me.
“But I thought you wanted me to go to class,” I said, my voice lilting into a questioning tone. “How else will I get there?”
“I’m going to drive you.” He got to his feet, his massive body seeming to swell as he stared down at me. The disapproval in his features shifted to something equally intense, but somehow softer: sternness. “You didn’t think I was going to let you leave on your own, did you?”
I licked my suddenly dry lips. “I thought… I didn’t think you’d want to come with me. I figured you could do other stuff with your day, and I promise I’ll come right back here after class. You can trust me.”
He took a step toward me, closing the distance between us. For a moment, I thought he would reach out and tenderly touch my face, but his arms remained at his sides.
“I know I can trust you, dulzura,” he said. “But I won’t leave you to wander around on your own. There’s nothing else I’d rather do with my day than guard you.”
I shrank in on myself. “Because I’m your hostage.”
His head canted to the side, and I surmised that he was considering his response carefully. “Because I want to keep you safe,” he finally replied. “Your father and I have arranged an uneasy truce, but he might be tempted to bring you home if I leave you exposed. I doubt he would dare to send anyone to pick you up while you’re on campus. It’s too public if you decided to make a scene. But I won’t risk it. I’m going with you to make sure he doesn’t try to take you from me.”
Was I imagining the possessiveness of his statement?
All mine. I remembered the savage claim he’d made over me when he was gripping my swollen sex in his huge hand and bringing me to orgasm.
He broke the moment with a gruff order. “Come on. You’ll be late for class if we don’t get going.”
My hand twitched toward his, longing to take it as we walked out of the house. But he didn’t seem to notice the tiny movement that betrayed my pathetic neediness. I pressed my palm against my dress, fingering the embroidery to prevent myself from stupidly reaching for him.
When we stepped outside, my attention caught on the ostentatious, cherry red Porsche parked in the driveway.
“You’re driving me to class in that?” I asked, taken aback.
He frowned, glancing at me as he opened the passenger door. “You don’t like it?”
“No, I like it,” I assured him, compliantly sliding into the leather seat. “It’s just a really fancy car to take such a casual trip.”
A dazzling grin lit his features, and his eyes sparkled as he reverently ran his hand over the aerodynamic hood of the car. I’d never seen him in this mood before: something between boyish excitement and covetous hunger.
“It’s brand new, and I want to take it out for a spin. Even if we are just driving into the city. I’ll take it to the track later and see what it’s really capable of.”
His giddy energy was baffling coming from a man who was so strong and serious. He’d been playful with me, and he’d looked at me with similar possessiveness in the past. But he hadn’t pulsed with this pure, thrilled aura. Like a kid with a shiny new toy on Christmas morning.
“You can come with me,” he said, more of an edict than an offer. “Have you ever been to a race track?”
I shook my head, making an effort to prevent my jaw from dropping. Mateo’s joyous attitude was shocking and more endearing than my heart could bear. I wanted him so desperately, but I worried that he would never want me again. Not the way he had before he saw my scar.
“You’ll love it,” he informed me before he shut my door carefully.
He practically had a spring in his step as he circled the car and opened his own door. When he settled into the driver’s seat, he ran his hands over the steering wheel before stroking the gear stick. My skin tingled in response. I wanted him to touch me with that tender reverence, like he’d done yesterday morning while he cuddled me at breakfast.