Rare and Precious Things
Page 51

But she got spooked and gulped down her champagne, and said goodbye to her friend.
Wait, don’t go yet.
I watched her contemplate whether to hail a cab or walk. Her legs were long and f**king gorgeous, anybody could see that, and when she turned towards the station I knew she’d made her decision. I couldn’t allow it. If someone was after her they’d have the perfect opportunity as she walked alone, and the thought of anybody wanting to hurt her did something to my insides I’d never felt before.
“It’s a very bad idea, Brynne. Don’t risk it. Let me give you a ride.”
She froze on the pavement, and turned stiffly to face me. “I don’t know you at all,” she said.
You will, beautiful American girl…you will.
I smiled at her and gestured toward the Rover, not even very much aware of what the f**k I was doing. I just needed to get closer.
But she took a deep swallow and a defensive stance, and called my bluff. “Yet you call me by name and—and expect me to get in a car with you? Are you crazy?”
Barking mad. I came closer and offered my hand. “Ethan Blackstone.”
“How do you even know my name?” God, I loved the sound of her voice…sexy as f**k all.
“I just bought Brynne’s Repose from the Andersen Gallery for a nice sum not fifteen minutes ago. And I’m fairly sure I’m not mentally impaired. Sounds more PC than crazy don’t you think?”
She tentatively reached out her hand. I took it. I grabbed hold of her and covered her hand with mine. The instant our bodies touched something happened inside my chest. A spark, heat—I don’t know what, but something. God, her eyes were unusual. I couldn’t say what their colour was precisely. I didn’t care though, I just wanted to look at them for a long f**king time and figure it out.
“Brynne Bennett.”
“And now we know each other—Brynne, Ethan.” I gestured with my head toward the Rover. “Will you let me take you home?”
She swallowed again, her lovely throat moving in a slow pull. “Why do you care so much?”
Easy answer, that. “Because I don’t want anything to happen to you? Because those heels look lovely at the end of your legs, but will be hell to walk in? Because it’s dangerous for a woman alone at night in the city?” I couldn’t help looking her up from head to toe to make my point. She must know how f**king hot she was. “Especially one that looks like you, Miss Bennett.”
“What if you’re not safe?”
If she only knew why I was here. I wonder what she would say to me then.
“I still don’t know you or anything about you, or if Ethan Blackstone is your real name.”
Miss Brynne Bennett was a smart girl. I admired her honesty and pluck in not giving in to ride with a complete stranger, with no fuss at all. She was Tom Bennett’s daughter all right.
“You have a point in that. And it’s one I can rectify easily.” I showed her my driving licence and handed her a business card. “You may keep that,” I told her. “I’m very busy at my job, Miss Bennett. I have absolutely no time for a hobby as a serial killer, I promise you.”
She laughed.
It was the most beautiful f**king sound I’d ever heard.
“Good one, Mr. Blackstone.” She put my card away, and then she said something that really pleased me. “All right. You can give me a ride.”
Oh yeah, baby, I can. Thoughts of just how I could give her a ride made my c**k sit up and take notice. I couldn’t help my grin. Miss Bennett had absolutely no idea what she was doing to me with her innocent comments. If I ever got the chance to give her a ride in my bed, it would be a long and memorable one for sure, because I didn’t take women to my bed. I think she could be the exception to my rule though.
What in the mother f**k is wrong with you?! I thought, as I put my hand to her back and steered her towards the Rover. I liked how she allowed me to do it. And I could finally smell her. Flowery, feminine, and f**king amazing. I wondered if the scent was perfume or something she used on her hair. Whatever it was, I wanted to bury my nose up against her neck and get a lungful of it—she smelled that good to me.
I settled her into her seat and felt a thrill once I’d shut myself in with her. I had this beautiful girl alone in my car with me. She was safe and nobody was going to get to her while she walked alone in the dark. I could also talk to her, and listen to her voice. I could smell her, and look at her, admire her long legs folded in the seat beside me, and imagine how it would be having those beautiful legs split on either side of my cock…
I asked her where she lived.
“Nelson Square in Southwark.”
Not the best location, but could be worse. “You are American,” I said, thinking of nothing better.
“I am here on scholarship at the University of London. Graduate program.”
I knew that of course, but I really wanted to know about her other job. “And the modelling?”
My question flustered her. Understandable, I suppose. I knew what she looked like naked. Fucking spectacular. “Um, I—I posed for my friend, the photographer, Benny Clarkson. He asked me, and it helps pay the bills, you know?”
“Not really, but I do love the portrait of you, Miss Bennett.” I kept my eyes on the road.
She did not like my questioning her. It made her defensive. I swear, she literally sizzled in her seat before letting me have it.
“Well, my own personal international corporation never came through like yours did, Mr. Blackstone. I resorted to modelling. I like sleeping in a bed as opposed to a park bench. And heat. The winters here suck!”
Oh, f**k, yeah, she’s amazing. “In my experience, I’ve found many things here that suck.” I glanced over and pegged her glittering eyes, moving down to her lips, imagining them wrapped around my cock, thoroughly enjoying winding her up by my reply.
“Well, we agree on something then.” She rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes.
“Headache?”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
I got the chance to take another long, leisurely look at her. “Merely a guess. No dinner, just the champagne you gulped back at the gallery, and now it’s late and your body is putting up a protest.” I tilted my head. “How’d I do?”
She looked at me as if her mouth had gone dry.