“Here you are, miss,” the valet said, pulling the door open for her.
“Thank you,” Liz said, sliding onto the black leather seat. The door closed behind her and cast her into dim lighting.
She looked around, taken with the beautiful sleek interior. An uncorked bottle of champagne chilled in a bucket filled with ice. A flat-screen TV hung against the back wall, and a fully stocked minibar with an assortment of glasses took up a seat on the left.
Liz had never been in a limo before. Her high school boyfriend had wanted to get one for prom, but she had thought it was a waste of money. They had taken his dad’s BMW instead. And Brady had a limo just for a gala event. What a different world. Liz found it ironic that this would be her first experience. Victoria would die to know the details, but there was no way she could tell her.
She knew that this was a bad idea…a really bad idea. If anyone found out that she had slept with Brady, then she could lose all credibility as a journalist. It would be career suicide for her. The paper had been the only thing she had wanted and worked this hard for. Maybe she shouldn’t even be here. Maybe she should get out the other side and walk back to her car.
But she couldn’t. She wanted to be with Brady. He had this pull on her, and their connection was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It might be wrong, but she wanted this to happen.
After a few minutes, the limo door opened and her heart rate accelerated.
For a brief second, a part of her thought that it was all going to be some ill-conceived practical joke. Hayden was going to be on the other side of the door with Calleigh Hollingsworth and the other reporters. They would be laughing at her for committing so thoroughly to their prank on the new girl. Because why else would Brady Maxwell ask her to get into his limo?
But then Brady’s handsome face came into view. He looked at her, smiled that gorgeous, charming, incomparable smile, and she was lost once more.
“You stayed,” he said, sitting down next to her.
“Are you surprised?” Liz asked, déjà vu washing over her. How often did this man get turned down that he would seem so surprised that she was near him? Didn’t seem likely that it would be very often.
“This time, no,” Brady told her confidently. The door slammed shut, casting them back into darkness.
“Do you often take limos out?” She broke his intense gaze and focused on her surroundings.
“Sometimes. I was an honored guest tonight, so the gala provided one.”
“My lucky night, I guess,” she said with a smile in his direction.
He chuckled. “I actually think it’s mine. How else could I have impressed you?”
Liz tried not to gawk as she considered the question. She was pretty sure everything about him was impressive.
Watching his mouth quirk up at the side, she realized he was teasing her. That look of pure confidence did inappropriate things to her. She had the sudden urge to jump him right there in the limo. Normally that much cocky self-importance would have been a turnoff, but Brady was breaking every rule in her book.
The limo started moving then, taking them to their unknown destination. Liz didn’t even want to know or else she might chicken out. She would rather step out of the limo with him at some unfamiliar place and simply follow his lead.
“You didn’t have any champagne,” Brady said, pulling the bottle from the ice and pouring them each a flute. The dim light fell across the label. Dom Pérignon. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was.
“I wasn’t sure I could,” she admitted. Also, she was nervous as hell.
“Well, here you go.” He handed her a drink. They clinked their glasses together, and she drank the champagne faster than she anticipated. It tasted like pure, bubbly bliss, way smoother than anything she had ever tasted before. He took a sip from his own glass and placed it by the ice bucket while she finished hers off.
“Want another?” he asked with a soft chuckle.
“Yes, please,” Liz said, handing the glass back. Brady refilled it, and she took her time sipping the champagne. His eyes were watching her, and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he going to make a move? Was he waiting for her to make a move? What did he want from her? She had too many thoughts coursing through her head, and she was wishing she’d had more to drink at the party to calm herself down.
Liz finished her second glass and handed it back to Brady. Instead of refilling it, he placed the empty glass next to his own and pulled her close to him. He draped an arm around the back of the seat and he laced their fingers together.
Her heart was pitter-pattering in her chest at his nearness. He was so warm and comfortable, and God, did she love the way his hands felt connected with hers. He sent chills up her spine as the pads of his fingertips traced soft lines into her skin. Their hips touched on the leather seat, and she could feel his muscular leg pressing against her own thigh. She crossed her legs at the knee as warm tingling sensations swept through her body.
He wasn’t doing anything more than holding her hand, and her body was already molten lava. His breath was hot on her neck as he stared down at her. He seemed to be waiting for her to look at him, but she wasn’t sure she could control her body at the moment.
“Liz?” he whispered into her ear. His forehead rested on her head as he breathed softly, waiting for her reply. She didn’t think she trusted her voice to answer.
When she didn’t respond, his mouth moved to her ear, nipping at it softly. He trailed his tongue down the side, causing her entire body to shiver in response. Nothing in her entire life had ever been so seductive, and she pressed her legs together in response. He must have known exactly what he was doing to her, because his grip on her hand tightened, and his other arm slid down to grasp her shoulder and pull her in closer.
“Liz?” he repeated, his voice a soft growl of desperation. Liz was sure that she would never want to hear her name uttered another way.
His tongue swirled around her earlobe, and her eyes fluttered closed, her head dropping back onto his arm in response. He tugged softly on the delicate skin, and she released a soft moan.
“Don’t make me ask again,” he groaned, his hand moving down her arm to circle her waist, grasping her tightly.
“Ye-yes,” Liz finally muttered breathily. She was surprised she was coherent at all.
“Look at me.”
She did what she was told without a second thought. Her head moved to the side and she stared up into his brown eyes. All she saw there was desire. He wanted her. Brady Maxwell, a sitting State Senator, wanted her.