I roll my eyes at Dante as I reach for the door hand to let myself out. “I swear, Lorcan being here is a fucking coincidence.”
Dante snorts. “I’ll wait while you tie up loose ends.” As I get out, he adds. “But I won’t wait for long.”
Fucker.
Ignoring the cat calls from the street surrounding the casino, I saunter over to the McLaren. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get there so I just let my instincts take over. The blood-red rage that was churning inside my gut this whole fucking time is screaming to be let out.
“Get the fuck out,” I say to the blonde. My threat is lost to the fact the door is a gull wing, and the seats are so low down I’d have to crawl on my hands and knees to stab her.
Lorcan fixes an unsteady gaze at me from the driver seat and smirks. “Oh, it’s you.” He looks away, shaking his head.
“Who the fuck are you?” the blonde hisses. She looks at Lorcan. “Who the fuck is she?”
I cross my arms and wait. After a few seconds, Lorcan drifts his attention back to where I’m standing, waiting.
“If you smash your head in again, Saskia will kill you,” I say.
“Saskia can go fuck herself,” Lorcan drawls. Unlike Dante, he’s very much a horny bastard. His eyes seem to glue themselves to my legs, desire flashing behind them as he takes the length of me in. “But I’ll always fuck you, sweetheart.”
“Charming,” I say. “But I’m still driving you home. You’re absolutely wasted.”
He glances at the blonde next to him. “Piss off.”
Lorcan’s date looks absolutely livid. “What did you say?”
“I said, piss off, Harmony. Are you deaf?”
“And how do you expect me to get back all the way to Richmond?”
Lorcan gives Harmony a blank look.
She does what I’ve been wanting to do all night—she slaps him. The cracking sound rings out loud and clear as his head snaps sideways. I almost want to clap.
“Fucking asshole,” she says. I sigh and wait while she scrambles around trying to get out of such a low riding vehicle. She doesn’t do it gracefully. She tumbles out on her ass, and no one makes a move to help her.
As soon as she vacates, I gracefully replace her in the leather bucket seat. The doors close of their own accord. Trapping me in with yet another guy I don’t trust. The seat is still warm. I glare at Lorcan who glares back. The mark on his cheek is bright red. It suits him.
“What are you doing here?” I say.
“What’s it look like? I’m on a fucking bender.”
“And the blonde?”
“A friend.”
“Some friend.” I snort. “You just dumped her on the side of the road in the middle of Soho.”
“She wanted to slum it, so I brought her here.” He looks at me, slightly more sober than I’ve seen him all night, chartreuse green eyes seeking me out in the low light. Someone beeps a horn behind us.
“I need to move the car.”
“I’ll do it,” I hiss. “Swap seats.”
He sighs but starts climbing into the seat I’m occupying. “You’re going to have to help by moving?” he says.
“I meant getting out of the car by the doors,” I say as his hand wraps around my waist. The familiar feel of him so close sends electric currents through my body.
“Too late,” he breathes into my ear, lifting me up by my butt. Somehow, he’s maneuvered himself under me. I’m sitting on his lap, nestled against him so I can feel how hard he is through the thin material of my dress. Even my heart starts racing if its own fucking accord.
Shooting my gaze heavenward, I wriggle toward the driver’s seat.
His hands tighten, not letting me go. “Not so fast, sweetheart,” he drawls.
I close my eyes. His woodsy cologne on its own does things to my body without permission, never mind anything else.
I forgot that when I’m with Lorcan, I’m on goddamn fire.