Page 14 of Handle Me

“I play to win, boss.” He brushed a finger over the tip of my nose and added, “And I never lose.”

Maybe that was true, but he’d never been up against me before. Anders thought he knew me, but he had no idea. I took a step back, putting some much-needed space between us. “Neither do I.”

“This should be interesting,” he murmured. “But about the shopping.”

I started to argue with him, but he held up a hand to cut me off.

“I was just going to tell you not to call your driver. I prefer to be the one behind the wheel.”

Of course he did. I resisted the urge to crawl under the bed and stood my ground. Would I ever stop embarrassing myself around him?

“Fine,” I said in as haughty of a tone as I could muster, starting toward the door. “Let’s go, then.”

“Okay.” But he stayed put, watching in amusement as I made my stand. “Are you coming with me?”

I groaned. “What? You don’t want to drive me?”

If that was the case, maybe he could stop driving me crazy. I was about to tell him this when he tipped his head meaningfully toward my feet.

My bare feet.

I closed my eyes as horror washed over me. I already knew what he was going to say before he prowled by on his way out the door. “I just thought you might want to put on some pants first.” He paused when he reached me and leaned closer. “Although, I’d be happy to take you for a ride without them.”

Lifting my hand, I pointed a trembling finger to the door. “Out. Now.”

“That’s what I get for being a gentleman,” he grumbled as he made his way from the room.

I slammed the door behind him and crumpled against it in embarrassment. Anders definitely wasn’t a gentleman. Otherwise, he would have pointed out that I’d lost my thin covering at some point during our fight. Instead, he’d let me walk around with my lady garden hanging out. It was just another reason to dislike him, another flaw to add to my growing list of his character flaws.

Things had gotten out of hand since I’d arrived, but that was going to change now. Anders could resist his family and his responsibilities all he wanted. Because I’d figured out his blind spot.

Me.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ANDERS

I’d nearly gotten over the sight of Lola’s perfect ass on display. Unfortunately, my dick had not. I adjusted it in my pants, cursing her under my breath. Now she wasn’t just going to be hanging around, she was going to be living with me? My poor balls were going to be so blue they might fall off. I needed to do something about her, and I needed to do it fast.

There was only one way to get her out of my life and my thoughts. I had to play along with her ridiculous demands. I’d play dress up and behave for now. But it was time to have a talk with my brother. Was it his idea to send the world’s most fuckable woman to teach me how to be a gentleman? He must really hate me, if so.

I stomped into the garage, remembering that my motorcycle was still at the track thanks to Lola’s thievery. Still, the garage was my happy place. As soon as I was with my cars I felt calmer. That lasted until Lola stepped in behind me. She’d put on a pair of black leather pants, but I wasn’t sure they were going to be any help keeping my mind off her ass. They hugged it too tightly. Her top was looser. It was made of some type of silky fabric that fell over her curves, drawing attention to the swell of her breasts. She’d left a few buttons undone, showing a hint of white lace that sent ideas racing through my brain.

How was I supposed to behave when she looked like that? Especially after I’d gotten a glimpse of her face post-orgasm? My pants grew a little tighter and I reached for the nearest passenger door, opening it for her, and strategically hiding my erection.

Lola looked at the car and shook her head. “Don’t you have anything safer?”

“Safer?” I repeated, staring at her.

“I’m not a big fan of cars,” she admitted.

That statement should have killed my erection. Could I really look past such a deep character flaw? What kind of person didn’t like cars? “This isn’t a car,” I explained to her. “This is a Ferrari, and it’s perfectly safe when I’m behind the wheel.”

“In that case.” She rolled her eyes and dropped into the seat. I lingered for a second until she was situated and reaching for the buckle.

Lola might not like cars, but she looked good in the bucket seat. Its red leather perfectly matched her lipstick, which was not helping me squash my dirty thoughts. I shut the door gently and circled to the other side.

“So you don’t like cars,” I prompted as I slipped into the driver’s side. I hit the button for the garage door before turning on the car. The Ferrari roared to life and Lola startled. Her buckle was the only thing that kept her from jumping out of her seat. That was the thing about 711 horsepower engines, they tended to make the seats vibrate. “What do you think of it now?”