Chapter 16
Whitney
The knock on the door comes too early. Well, he’s right on time, but I’m not ready. Before I can let my mind think of the ways I’d like to be punished, I arrow to the door, first checking to make sure it’s Wren, before pulling it open with the chain in place.
He doesn’t look the least bit annoyed when I turn my head so he can see half my face—the half with completed eye makeup.
“I’m running a little behind,” I tell him with a weak smile.
He bites his lip, his eyes trying to get a peek of me through the crack. I purposely move a little further back to keep him guessing.
“Will I be waiting long?”
“Five more minutes?”
“That gives me a long time to think.” The movement of his hands catches my eye, and I’ll be damned if his pointer finger on his right hand isn’t tapping the silver metal of his belt, a delicious threat of sorts.
I want to clench my thighs together, but I’m already reminded every time I move that I disobeyed him by wearing panties. I could delve deeper into my psyche and insist that I wasn’t comfortable obeying his order, but honestly, it all boils down to acting like a brat, something I hope he takes notice of.
My cheeks heat when I finally make eye contact and he gives me that sexier-than-sin wink.
“Take your time, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
Not many people have been able to get away with calling me pet names, and as it were, baby is the most generic form any man could decide to use. So why do the two syllables hit me in the gut like he’s whispering promises he has every intention of following through with?
The warning tone of his voice is of my own making, and I know he intends it that way. Plus, anticipation is usually half the thrill.
When I close the door, I peek at him again from the peephole, rolling my lips between my teeth to find him bouncing around on his feet as if he’s trying to give himself a pep talk. He seems so sure when he’s in front of me. Is it possible he’s just as nervous about tonight as I am? God, wouldn’t that make things easier. I know it would make me feel less like a bumbling idiot. As wild as my fantasies get, I honestly don’t have much experience when it comes to men. And never have I had a man stand up and take full control even though it’s what my body needs most.
I rush to finish my makeup, not wanting to wait any longer to get our night started. When I’m finished, I find Simon crouched in front of the door batting at something, and as I stand there, I realize Wren is sliding his driver’s license back and forth so the cat can play with it.
I snatch it from under the door. He’ll probably think Simon got a hold of it, but then I look at his photo and can’t stop the laugh that escapes my mouth.
“It’s been seven minutes, Whitney,” he says from the other side of the door. After grabbing my purse and opening the door, my smile still spreads the entire width of my face.
He has his hand in front of him, a silent demand for me to return it, but he’s grinning too. “May I have that back?”
“Can I make a copy of it first?” I hold the plastic card behind my back, knowing if he wants it bad enough, all he has to do is command I give it to him.
“I have much better pictures. You may have copies of those.” He takes a step closer and after shutting my apartment door, I press my back against it. My arms remain behind me, and his eyes flare with interest. It’s an offer of vulnerability on my part, and he takes notice.
“How long have you had your braces off?”
His lip twitches with mirth not in anger, but he doesn’t answer.
“You’re not a donor,” I whisper as he grows even closer.
I can feel the heat of his body, and it’s enough to make me suggest that we skip dinner and head right back into my apartment.
“I read online that you’re more likely to die if you’re a donor.” He’s saying some really creepy stuff, but it doesn’t stop my body from responding to his proximity. “That they will let you die to save many others rather than waste energy to save you.”
“Really?” I manage to pant as his arms slide around my back.
“Yeah. Really.”
“Oh.” His nose traces the column of my neck, and I’m to the point of offering up a kidney for the briefest of kisses.
“Now,” he says taking a step back, “let’s go have dinner.”
I blink up at him to find him putting his license back into his wallet, unsure of when he even slid it out of my hands. I hate that I missed cataloging his touch.
“Dinner?”
He chuckles, the low, husky tone sliding over me, beginning to turn my need into desperation.
“Yes, dinner, Whitney. I can’t make all of your sexual fantasies come true on an empty stomach.”
“I have snacks inside. Protein bars. Gatorade, so we don’t get dehydrated.”
I bite my lip with my brazen response, praying my cheeks aren’t as red as the heat I can feel coming from them.
He grins even wider. “In due time, my peach. Let’s go.”
His hand is hot and huge on my back as he presses it against my lower spine as he directs us to the elevator. This man has loads of restraint, and that’s going to be a trait he’ll need once we get down to it. Even still, I don’t know if he’s going to be able to get past all my hang-ups.
Wren doesn’t pull his arm from behind my back as we ride the elevator down, keeping me close to his side all the way out of the building.
“A chauffeured car? Call
