Perfect Monster (The Oligarchs) - Page 6

“I told you, I’m nobody. Get in that car right now or you’re going to end up like poor Dia.”

I blinked at him, then stared at the SUV. “I don’t do cars.” Another round of panic threatened to overwhelm me.

I hadn’t been in a car in three years.

“What are you talking about?”

“I ride my bike. I don’t do cars. Please, I can ride my bike and meet you—”

He let out another annoyed breath, then bent forward and lifted me up over his shoulder. I let out a shout and tried to hit him in the back, but it was like pounding against a brick wall. He opened the door and shoved me inside like luggage, then climbed in.

I scrambled for the door, but the driver locked it.

“Please let me out,” I said, hyperventilating. “Please, please, please, please let me out. I don’t do cars. I don’t ride in cars.”

Roman only stared at me with a frown. “Drive, Erick.”

“Where to, boss?”

“My house in Avalon.”

The car pulled out, and I sank down in the seat, breathing so hard I thought I might rip a hole in my throat, barely keeping the overwhelming animal fear at bay.

2

Roman

The girl was having a panic attack.

Interesting.

She hugged herself with one arm and with the other she traced a line across her belly. I didn’t know what that was all about. She looked tiny in that jacket, swallowed by the oversized sleeves and body, the big furry hood tossed gracelessly behind her.

She looked like a perfect, little doll.

I’d noticed her the moment I walked into that club. She was small, a foot shorter than me, with full, red lips and smooth, pale skin. She wore her dark hair up, with small strands framing her pretty face. Her hazel eyes were filled with utter, absolute terror, though they’d shone earlier in the night with something I didn’t quite understand.

She was panicking more over being in a car than she had over watching a girl get executed right in front of her eyes.

Which was very, very interesting.

I’d found myself drawn to her from that very first moment. She wore clothes that were slightly too large, as if she wanted to hide herself from the world, and that only made me want to peel her apart and inspect every inch of her body even more. I could tell she had a gorgeous figure hidden away, and I relished the challenge of breaking past her barriers.

But why a girl like that had barriers at all was a mystery.

And why she’d be so terrified of cars was even more fascinating.

I caught her eye, and she looked like she was on the verge of getting sick. I couldn’t have that, not when Erick had just recently gotten the car detailed.

I leaned closer and put my hand on her thigh.

“Do you know what’s happening?”

“Please let me out,” she whispered, sweat beading on her forehead.

“You’re having a panic attack. You need to take deep, steady breaths. What’s your name?”

“Callie.”

“All right, Callie. Breathe with me.” I took a deep breath, counted to three, released it. “Do you see? Breathe with me, Callie.”

She whimpered, bit her lip, but she obeyed.

There was something beautiful about the way she trembled as she hovered right on that line of pure fear. She was out of control, and that enthralled me—I was a man that never allowed myself to spiral. My entire world was built around my ability to influence my surroundings and to keep them subservient to my will.

Without that, I wouldn’t last long. Not in my line of work.

“Breathe, Callie.” I moved my hand up her leg along her simple black slacks toward the top of her thigh.

Toward the warm spot between her legs.

Heat radiated from her body, and a sudden thrill ran down my spine.

She must’ve noticed. Her mouth fell open.

White teeth. A slight gap between the front two.

Fuck, she was pretty.

Gorgeous, actually.

I wanted to reach up and wrap my fingers in that thick hair and pull it tight. I wanted to chew on her lower lip, bite until it bled. I wanted to taste her and hear her moans and watch her slowly take off all that clothing until she revealed herself to me, all her glorious skin, all her little secrets.

I wanted to unfold her.

“Breathe, Callie.”

Slowly, she calmed. Not entirely—her hands still shook—but enough that she didn’t look like she was about to lose it all over the floor.

I left my palm on her thigh. I wanted to move it up further.

She leaned her head back against the seat and stared at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry. I don’t like cars.”

I forced myself to pull my hand away.

That shouldn’t have been difficult.

“I noticed.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because I want to.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

I took another deep breath. She breathed along with me. We were in sync, her body aching for mine as much as mine ached for hers, our chests rising and falling together. I let my gaze linger on her long, slender neck then travel up to her tight jaw, her button nose, her rosebud lips.

Tags: B.B. Hamel Erotic
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