Chapter 15 Losing Control
The silence that follows isn't cold anymore.
It's charged and unstable, dangerous with something I haven't felt in years.
I see it in the way his hands ball into fists at his sides.
I see it in the tightness in his jaw, the way his chest rises and falls with erratic breaths.
He's furious, but there's something else in the way he's looking at me.
Something that shouldn't be there.
Something that makes my pulse drum recklessly and heat form between my legs.
Sucking in a deep breath, I fall a step back. "I'm exhausted, Mr Moore." I say weakly, my voice lacking the fire it had minutes ago.
"I am so fucking tired of killing myself to be perfect for you, and it still never being enough."
For a second, the anger in his eyes weakens, and something else reflects in it.
Guilt, perhaps? Or is it longing? Either way, it's something he'd rather die than admit. And it only remains there for a second before he crushes it out.
Lawrence pulls out his phone.
"Elias," he says into the receiver, his eyes never leaving mine, "bring the car around the back. Now."
"Never mind," I mutter, gathering my dress as I walk. "I'll take a cab. Goodnight, Mr Moore."
I don't look back as I move.
"Miss Thorn," he calls after me.
I stop but don't turn around, letting out another exhausted breath.
Just as he catches up to me, his black Maybach swerves around the bend and glides to where we are.
Elias nods in our direction.
Lawrence looks down on me, the reflection of light from a lamp post splashing across his face and highlighting his cheekbones.
"Get in the car."
The anger returns.
Does he think he can just make me do whatever he wants?
"No, sir. I said I'll take a cab." I reply firmly.
Then I continue moving again.
"Scarlett!" He snaps loudly, and I freeze.
The sound of my first name in that rough, agitated tone of his does something to my senses.
He takes one step closer. "Get. In. The. Car."
My heart is slamming against my ribs so hard I'm sure he can hear it.
"Or what?" I challenge, spinning to face him.
His green eyes flare. "Or I walk over there, throw you over my shoulder," he says, each word with a lethal sort of calm, "and put you in myself. Your choice."
I don't need to look twice to see that he means it.
Something hot flares in my stomach, and I curse myself or it, but I'm too tired to fight the inevitable tonight.
Stomping to the car, I slide in, crossing my arms dramatically.
Lawrence gets in beside me.
"Miss Thorn's apartment, please," he tells Elias through the open partition.
Then he clicks a button and it rises, sealing us in thick, suffocating silence.
I stare out the tinted window, still boiling with anger. But I can feel him watching me.
And I refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking back.
"Scarlett." He finally speaks.
God, I don't like what hearing my name from his lips does to me.
I ignore him, but he keeps talking.
"I don't…" he pauses like he's reconsidering speaking at all. "When I talk to you, it comes out…" His jaw tightens. "I don't mean it the way it sounds."
The admission catches me off guard, and my shoulders relax a fraction. But I don't turn.
"I don't know how to be gentle with people."
His voice is quieter now, stripped of its usual sharpness. "I only know how to be precise."
I finally look at him.
He's watching me.
"I put you through hell because…" His hands slowly clench into fists on his thighs. "Because I started feeling things for you. Things a boss has no right to feel about his secretary."
My breathing falters for a second.
Lawrence runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. "I didn't know what to do with it. So I aimed all of it at you… the rage at myself for wanting you this much."
The longer I stare into his intense eyes, the more I behold the dark, unmistakable desire there.
My stomach flips dramatically, but I stay silent, letting him speak.
Then Lawrence's tone drops to a bone-chilling level. "I can also be very possessive."
His eyes darken as they roam my face. "Call me a greedy bastard, but I've been possessive of you since the day you walked into that office in the green dress."
His gaze falls to the slit that's riding high on my thigh, before climbing back up to my face.
"Every time another man looked at you tonight… every time Black did, I wanted to hurt them."
The air in the car is suddenly too thin, too electric.
Lawrence turns slightly to face me, his voice a raspy whisper. "I'm done pretending I don't want you under me or on me, Scarlett. I'm done pretending I don't think about that smart mouth wrapped around me every time you argue back."
His eyes fall to my lips. "So… Miss Thorn, this is the part," he says quietly, "where, with your permission, I lose control."
His jaw tightens. "And I don't know what happens if I do."
I'm on him before I can think, throwing a leg over his lap, my knees sinking into the leather on both sides of his hips.
My hands fly into his hair, yanking his head back so I can crash my mouth against his.
Lawrence growls and kisses me back with pent-up hunger.
One hand grabs my hip, digging into the flesh of my thigh. The other dives straight under the slit of my dress, pulling me forward until I'm fully seated over him.
I feel the bulge of his erection pressing up against me through his trousers.
A shocked gasp escapes my lips, but it is instantly swallowed by his mouth.
He pulls back to grab my chin, forcing my eyes to his. The green is darker now.
Without breaking the stare, he takes his glasses off, and drops them into the side compartment.
Lawrence looks even more devastating without them. Sharper cheekbones, fuller lashes and those eyes unhidden behind the frames, burning straight into me.
It's fucking beautiful.
For a moment, we just look at each other, breathing hard.
I can feel his pulse beating wildly under my palms, just like mine.
Then he drags me down again.
This particular kiss is feral. There's no control. Our tongues slide against each other messily.
I tear at his shirt, ripping his buttons off.
The fabric gives way, revealing the tight white vest stretched over his pecs, and I lightly run my nails down his chest.
Lawrence's hand finds my breast through the silk, squeezing my nipple until it grows hard between his fingers.
I moan, my head falling back.
He immediately leans forward, his mouth on my throat, licking and sucking hard enough to leave hickeys.
Every touch of his tongue sends a jolt of pleasure through me.
I grind on the rigid length trapped beneath me, grabbing his shoulders for support until a sharp rip interrupts the wet sounds of our mouths.
I tense, then glance down.
The slit in the Valentino dress is torn up to my hip now.
Fuck.
My twenty-thousand-dollar dress is ruined.
Lawrence follows my gaze, then looks back up at me.
"I'll buy you another," he mutters roughly.
Then he takes hold of the torn edge and rips it higher, till the full length of my thigh and the lace barely covering my feminine heat is exposed.
I gasp, shocked and turned on.
He claims my mouth again, his hand sliding up the newly bared skin to grip my ass and grind me harder against him.
I'm grateful for the late-night Manhattan traffic outside, because we're nowhere near done.