Read Online Wild Hyacinthe (Crimson Romance) by Nola Sarina, Emily Faith - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nola Sarina, Emily Faith
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she shook her head, groaning. “The Camry is totalled, Asher. Not drivable. Can you take me to a hotel or something? I haven’t gotten my tips paid out yet with that ridiculous amount you left me at the Lacy Teacup, so all I’ve got is sixty bucks . . . that should be enough for a Best Western room, shouldn’t it?”
I paused, conflicted, but the good man inside me, for once, sided easily with the incubus’s ideas. “Are you serious? I live three blocks from here. Get in, I’m taking you home.”
Aria rolled her eyes, humiliated. “Asher, I can’t impose on you like that. The Best Western will be fine, and I’ll convince the manager to cash out my tips tomorrow. If I even still have a job tomorrow, that is . . . ” She hid her eyes behind her fingers.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her around the car to the passenger’s side. She made a sound of protest, but I stuffed her into the seat and buckled her in.
“Don’t argue with me,” I ordered as I slid into my own seat and cranked the key. “You’ll have a job tomorrow. And I have plenty of space. You’re going to go into shock if I don’t get you warmed up and calmed down.”
“Asher . . . ”
“Shut up, I need to concentrate,” I said, flashing her a teasing grin. “Would be terribly inconvenient to hit a deer because you distracted me in this very expensive car.”
My redirection of conversation worked. “Yes, three blocks and you’ll hit a deer.”
“Stranger things have happened in more expensive cars than this.”
“What is this, exactly?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. “It’s so sleek, like it’s all speed. I wondered if it even had seats when I first saw it, or if you, like, just straddled the engine and held on.”
I laughed at the visual, and she relaxed a bit. “Lamborghini Superleggera. I call it the Super Car. Not all that clever, I know. But it’s nothing compared to my rec vehicle, the Sissy Car.”
“Sissy Car?” Aria shook her head, a smile glancing across her face.
“Lamborghini Sesto Elemento. Ten times the price, barely faster and totally illegal to drive. I’ll take you for a ride in it sometime. I only drive it up to my cabin.” My loins clenched at the suggestion. I only used the cabin for one purpose, and here I was already mentioning the place to this random girl who lived in her car until she totalled it. I chomped on my lip for a dose of much needed pain, reminding myself to stay in check, under control, and to keep sexual suggestions to a minimum with her. I didn’t want to kill her.
She let out a little giggle. “I’d like to ride in your Sissy Car. And thanks, by the way.”
I parked in one of my garages beside the gym and led Aria up the back stairs. Three flights up, I tapped in a code to release the lock on the door. She averted her gaze for my privacy, so I closed the door and touched her chin with my fingertip. She followed my finger as I pointed to the keypad and re-entered the number, giving her full, trusting access to my home. The lock clicked again, and I swung open the door to let her into my apartment.
To call it an apartment was a dramatic understatement by common standards, I knew, but I didn’t know what else to use. A loft? I didn’t like the enclosed feeling of a single-level divided by walls, so when Gypsy hired my architect, I had all the interior walls knocked down. My bedroom was the section of the open room on the western wall—divided by a single stair up into the space—and the living room was on the east. Only the bathroom, attached to my bedroom, was an actual
room
with walls and a door, across from eight windows as large as the French doors in the middle that led to the balcony. I watched as she took in my chandelier, the vast height of the vaulted ceiling and open space before us.
Aria walked into the main living area with eyes as wide as the full moon and took in the ninety-six inch, flat-screened television with a single, long, five-seat couch facing it.
I paused, conflicted, but the good man inside me, for once, sided easily with the incubus’s ideas. “Are you serious? I live three blocks from here. Get in, I’m taking you home.”
Aria rolled her eyes, humiliated. “Asher, I can’t impose on you like that. The Best Western will be fine, and I’ll convince the manager to cash out my tips tomorrow. If I even still have a job tomorrow, that is . . . ” She hid her eyes behind her fingers.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her around the car to the passenger’s side. She made a sound of protest, but I stuffed her into the seat and buckled her in.
“Don’t argue with me,” I ordered as I slid into my own seat and cranked the key. “You’ll have a job tomorrow. And I have plenty of space. You’re going to go into shock if I don’t get you warmed up and calmed down.”
“Asher . . . ”
“Shut up, I need to concentrate,” I said, flashing her a teasing grin. “Would be terribly inconvenient to hit a deer because you distracted me in this very expensive car.”
My redirection of conversation worked. “Yes, three blocks and you’ll hit a deer.”
“Stranger things have happened in more expensive cars than this.”
“What is this, exactly?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. “It’s so sleek, like it’s all speed. I wondered if it even had seats when I first saw it, or if you, like, just straddled the engine and held on.”
I laughed at the visual, and she relaxed a bit. “Lamborghini Superleggera. I call it the Super Car. Not all that clever, I know. But it’s nothing compared to my rec vehicle, the Sissy Car.”
“Sissy Car?” Aria shook her head, a smile glancing across her face.
“Lamborghini Sesto Elemento. Ten times the price, barely faster and totally illegal to drive. I’ll take you for a ride in it sometime. I only drive it up to my cabin.” My loins clenched at the suggestion. I only used the cabin for one purpose, and here I was already mentioning the place to this random girl who lived in her car until she totalled it. I chomped on my lip for a dose of much needed pain, reminding myself to stay in check, under control, and to keep sexual suggestions to a minimum with her. I didn’t want to kill her.
She let out a little giggle. “I’d like to ride in your Sissy Car. And thanks, by the way.”
I parked in one of my garages beside the gym and led Aria up the back stairs. Three flights up, I tapped in a code to release the lock on the door. She averted her gaze for my privacy, so I closed the door and touched her chin with my fingertip. She followed my finger as I pointed to the keypad and re-entered the number, giving her full, trusting access to my home. The lock clicked again, and I swung open the door to let her into my apartment.
To call it an apartment was a dramatic understatement by common standards, I knew, but I didn’t know what else to use. A loft? I didn’t like the enclosed feeling of a single-level divided by walls, so when Gypsy hired my architect, I had all the interior walls knocked down. My bedroom was the section of the open room on the western wall—divided by a single stair up into the space—and the living room was on the east. Only the bathroom, attached to my bedroom, was an actual
room
with walls and a door, across from eight windows as large as the French doors in the middle that led to the balcony. I watched as she took in my chandelier, the vast height of the vaulted ceiling and open space before us.
Aria walked into the main living area with eyes as wide as the full moon and took in the ninety-six inch, flat-screened television with a single, long, five-seat couch facing it.
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