“I thought we were talking through the hot points?”
“I told you,” he says, pausing with his hand on his door, “I can’t meet.”
“What about in the morning?” I press, confused by this change of attitude.
“I’ll see you at the meeting,” he replies, cutting his eyes and disappearing inside his car. His engine revs and he’s backing up in sixty seconds flat.
I turn to Eric. “What was that?” I demand.
“The Bennett Corporation operates one of the largest law firms in the world. We’ve had a few thousand dealings with the union.”
I shake my head in instant rejection. “No. No, he was afraid of you. He knew you. He feared you.”
“He fears the beast that is the Bennett name and I’m a large part of Grayson Bennett’s brand.”
“There’s more to what just happened,” I say, a cold gust of wind biting through me, while Eric seems immune to anything real. He doesn’t even seem to notice. He’s colder than I thought. He’s harder. Why didn’t I know this? He’s a self-made billionaire. That doesn’t come cheap. “You said you want more from me,” I say. “You demanded more of me, and yet all you’re giving me is accusations and a blow-off answer to something that directly affects me.” A few people walk out of the coffee shop and I lower my voice. “You want more. Well, I want more, too. I demand more.” I start walking to the car and I even manage to get the door open.
Eric catches my arm and pulls me around to face him, all that hard muscle and warmth touching me everywhere, and Lord help me, that’s where I want him. Everywhere. I want him so badly it hurts, even though I know that he’s going to hurt me. “You want more?” he asks, his voice a low, rough command.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation, some part of me aware that this moment defines us, it defines me in a way I do not yet understand, and yet, my answer is unchanged. “Yes,” I repeat, barely able to breathe with the jagged edge of his emotions suffocating me.
“Say it,” he orders as if he thinks I can’t or won’t. As if he needs to know I know what I’m agreeing to, and I do.
“I want more.”
His eyes glint fire and ice in the same moment, still managing to burn me alive. “You sure about that? You might not like what you find if I give it to you.”
My hand settles on his chest, his heart thundering under my palm. We’re not talking about Kingston. We’re talking about me and him. “I don’t want you to just walk away this time.”
“You should. You don’t know who I am or what I am.”
“And if I want to find out?”
His mouth closes down on mine, his tongue licking into my mouth, a deep, drugging stroke followed by another before he whispers, “Get in the car, Harper.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Harper
Eric releases me and I am instantly cold again where I was warm moments before, and I want to be warm again, the kind of warm that I know from experience only his touch creates in me. I climb into the car, letting the soft leather absorb my body. He shuts me inside and in a few moments, he’s here with me, the implication of what just happened between us, and where it leads, expanding and consuming us and the small space we share. The promise of more is with us, and I don’t even know what that means. I just know I need to know. I need to know now because this man does that to me. He makes me need and want on a level I don’t even understand.
I just do.
He doesn’t immediately turn on the car. He sits here next to me, staring forward and there is this sudden shift in energy in him that I can’t explain. I feel it even before he looks at me, and asks, “Are you hungry?”
Am I hungry? Not, are you lying to me? The question settles easily between us, the tension of moments before uncurling just that easily. This is new territory for us. We have never shared a meal or a real conversation and I am quick to welcome such a thing. “Yes, actually, I am. I had a power bar today. That’s all.”
“I had a bag of peanut M & M’s which I promise you were better than the power bar. Let’s go to Cherry Creek and eat. I know you live there and it’s also where I booked my hotel and not because I’m stalking you. It’s my old stomping grounds and I wanted to revisit some of my favorite spots while I’m here.”
“I didn’t know you lived in Cherry Creek. How long?”
“Four years. I went to undergrad school around there. My favorite Italian restaurant is there, which is on my list of places to hit while I’m here.”
I perk up. “North?”
“North,” he confirms. “You like it?”
“Love it. My favorite, too.”