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“What are you doing here?” Ciara demanded as sales personnel carried bags to a waiting limousine. The last twenty-four hours had been full of firsts. My first orgy. My first limousine ride. My first drunken confession that I wanted to lick every square inch of his body.
“You’ve been shopping for hours,” he grumbled. “You spent last week shopping. How much shopping can you do?”
Ciara tossed her hair again, the effect not unlike flipping him off. “What do you care? Didn’t you have a million boring meetings today?” She turned to me and rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t know how to have fun.”
“As a matter of fact, that’s why I’m here.” He looked me up and down and scowled. I guess I was still lacking in his eyes. Had I really suspected any differently, even if he flirted with me a little? Had I imagined the kiss on the back of my neck, the nose trailing along my jaw, the way his hands claimed my hips and wouldn’t let go? “I thought Cate might like to experience more than your rampant consumerism for a few hours.”
Ciara flicked her polished nails. “I’ve spent years honing my rampant consumerism, thank you very much.”
He ignored his sister and returned his attention to me. “Where are your bags?”
I shouldered my very non-designer purse a little higher. “I didn’t buy anything.”
“Didn’t Ciara tell you that I’d already arranged for your purchases?”
I had read similar scenarios in books, but the reality was much hotter in person. It took effort to not let that show, because the truth was I was just another item he’d bought. “I don’t need anything.”
“Actually, we did get a few things.” Ciara inserted herself into the conversation with a mischievous grin. “Why don’t you show him, Cate?”
I was beginning to question if she was really my friend as I shot her an imploring look.
Lachlan, by some miracle, was not picking up on what she was implying. He glanced to the continuing parade of purchases being Tetrised into the trunk. “Which bag is it?”
“No need,” I said quickly.
“Are you trying to steal her from me?” Ciara asked.
“I’m trying to rescue her.”
“We were going to go eat,” I said. Spending the day pretending like I hadn’t basically dry humped him on the dance floor was not what I had in mind.
But Ciara reached over and squeezed my arm. “But Lach is here to save you. Maybe you can model those new—”
“No,” I cut her off, my face flaming.
I did not miss the subtle wiggle of her eyebrows behind his back. Apparently, his sister was rooting for me to throw all caution to the wind, hook up with a tattooed bad boy, and hope that some iota of my dignity and heart remained intact—aka Team Lach.
Before I could think of another excuse to get out of going with him, Ciara was sliding into the back of the limousine and waving goodbye. She paused with her hand on the door and called out, “We’re going to Alouette tonight. Are you two in?”
He frowned. Answer enough.
“I’ll come,” I said. Even though I had no idea what I just signed up for.
“Great!” she said brightly. And then the limo was off.
He sighed. “Maybe drink a little more water tonight.”
At least we were going to tiptoe around what happened. “I think I’m going to skip drinking altogether.”
“Good idea.” He took my hand and started toward the curb. “Let’s go.”
Not drinking was a good idea. I had plenty of good ones. The trouble was that every time he touched me, I could only think of bad ideas.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I didn’t know which make of Mercedes it was. I just knew that it was sex on four wheels.
And I didn’t even like cars.