Page 14 of X: Command Me through Alexander’s Eyes

“Unfortunately, you’re right.” I hold her gaze until her ass wiggles against the seatback. “I know I should be sorry that I kissed you, but I’m not. In fact, I’d like to do it again.”

“I’m not stopping you,” she whispers.

I force myself to look away from her. But I can’t pretend she’s not here. I can’t ignore her perfect body pressed to mine in the suddenly too small backseat. Her presence—my desire—doesn’t change the facts. “You said no.”

She blinks as if just remembering this herself. “I didn’t mean it.”

“What mixed signals you give me, Miss Bishop. That’s a risqué thing to do with a man like me.”

“And what kind of man is that?” she demands.

“A man who takes what he wants.” I let her digest my words. Clara doesn’t back down, though.

“You haven’t taken me.”

She has to fucking defy me, which is possibly even sexier than the brief glimpses of submission I’ve caught when kissing her.

Bringing a strong woman to her knees—knowing you’re the only one who can tame her—is a rush beyond comparison.

“We met under unusual circumstances.” My hand reaches for her knee, and before I can rethink the gesture, a subtle tremble rolls through her. I wouldn’t have felt it if I wasn’t touching her. I should be a gentleman and stop myself. Instead, I find myself hoping to elicit another reaction.

“You weren’t looking to pick anyone up?” She pretends to ignore my hand, but pink creeps over her cheeks. I want to see that rosy glow coloring the rest of her fair skin. It takes effort to focus on what she’s saying. “Not your usual scene?”

I try to hold back a smile. Meeting her was the last thing I expected that day. “I rarely find such exciting company at the Oxford and Cambridge Club.”

“Why were you there?” she asks.

“My friend Jonathan received his degree. He conned me into coming,” I say.

“I have a hard time imagining you being conned by anyone.”

“Then you must not know Jonathan.”

“Wait,” she says, “do you mean Jonathan Thompson?”

“The one and the only. Do you know him…well?” I’m trying to be delicate, but I want to know.

“By reputation only,” she says quickly, and I relax.

“Jonathan claims he bedded every girl in his class,” I say. “I’m glad to see you had higher standards.”

I’m not certain why it matters. Clara’s life before me is not my concern. In point of fact, her life isn’t my concern now. But the thought of Jonathan touching her bothers me more than I’d like to admit to her or myself.

“Says his good friend.”

“Some people you should keep close.” I hope she hears the warning in my words. I have no interest in discussing Jonathan with her—only in keeping her away from him.

Clara turns her attention to the streets and the buildings outside her window. Are we near where she lives? Is she counting the moments until she can be well shot of me? I couldn’t blame her, but instead, she stays close to me, keeping our bodies in contact.

“Where are we going?” She looks at a building as we pass, and I realize it’s where she lives: a simple brick building in East London.

It’s not the usual choice for a girl with a trust fund. Then again, the file Norris brought me on her noted she took a job at a non-profit. Nothing about this girl lines up with her bank account.

“There are reporters following us. Norris will lose them before I take you home.” Without thinking, my hand moves from her knee up to grip her thigh.

I can’t stop myself from touching her. I want to comfort her. I want to kiss her. She draws me to her bright light like I’m a suicidal moth. I’m not a creature meant for her. I belong to the dark, but even knowing that, I don’t pull away from her.

“Clara,” I murmur, knowing I can’t avoid this. I have a duty to her, and no matter what happens, I will see to it.