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The rasp in his voice skitters over my body leaving a delicious tingle in its wake.
“Getting comfortable.” I try to sound airy and light. “These seats are the best.
The soft leather caresses me in all the right ways.”
Henry makes a sound low in his throat somewhere between a groan and scoff.
He cranks the ignition. Now, it is my turn to stare. Watching Henry back out of a
parking spot is an experience. A sexual one. He has a backup camera, but he refuses
to use it on principal. When it comes to driving, he is a traditionalist.
He stretches his muscular arm across the seats. His big hand lands on my
headrest. His shirt clings to his body. He bites his bottom lip like he always does
when he concentrates. The SUV rolls backwards as he stretches to see better as his
other big hand guides the wheel.
I want to swoon. I ogle him from behind my shades. I want another hit of that.
I squeeze my thighs together and force less sexual thoughts into my horny brain.
“Two days until your birthday.”
I try to sound more excited and less sultry. I fail miserably. Instead, I sound like
a professional chain smoker. Henry pulls into traffic. I clear my throat and try
again.
“What do you want for your birthday?”
Please say me. Please say me.
His lip twitches with a smile. “You don’t have to get me anything. I live with
you for free, and you paid for the Florida trip.”
“The trip was already paid. Those have nothing to do with your birthday.” I
push my shades up and glare at his profile. “Come on, tell me what you really
want.” I drag out ‘really’ to put emphasis on it.
“Okay,” he concedes. “I want you to say my name.”
My body tightens. I roll the sentence around in my head until it builds like a
snowball and breaks everything. This is a different kind of brain freeze.
“Huh?” is all my vocal cords can produce.
My mind has the opposite issue of my vocals. It conjures up plenty of sexual
imagery. I hope means it exactly the way it sounds. I will grant that wish. I will grant
it so fucking hard and often he will forget his name and birthday.
He glances at me. “You know, I want you to practice saying my real name:
Henri.”