Aurora's POV
My heart is racing. In fact, it's beating so fast I'm surprised it's not painful.
I can barely breathe. I keep having to remind myself to take a deep breath every few seconds so that I don't pass out from oxygen deficiency.
Although... Even in my foggy brain that sounds ridiculous! Whoever heard of someone passing out from... Well, wanting someone?
I can't focus on anything except the fact that I'm going home with a man I've just met. It's exhilarating and scary all at once.
He's perhaps the most beautiful man I've ever seen but he's also rather intimidating. He's impressive, overwhelmingly so and I don't know how I'm going to get through tonight.
As much as I want him, as much as I want this, it goes against my every instinct. Every inch of me wants him but my thoughts are complicated and scared.
No. I'm not scared. I'm terrified.
It's not only something my parents have told me not to do; it's something I've told myself not to do countless times. I've been good at keeping the rules for such a long time. I've kept them for so long now that somewhere along the way they've ceased to be their rules and they've become my own.
Now I've reached the point where I can no longer blame them for my missed opportunities. After all, they are my missed opportunities, not my parents'.
Normally, I wouldn't have even gotten myself into a situation where a guy would offer to take me home, let alone ask him to. This whole thing is so out of character for me that it makes me question whether it's a good idea at all.
Am I really going through with this?
Of course, you are, you plonker! You're sat in the back of his car, I tell myself. There's no turning back now.
Shit, I mentally swear, I'm in way over my head.
I take in my surroundings, trying to distract myself. I'm sitting in the back of a black Lexus LS 600h L.
"You're not driving?" I ask the first question that comes to my mind, anything to slow down my heart rate and get my breathing back under control.
Every muscle in my body is tight with tension; I try to loosen off. I don't want him to know just how nervous I am. He's holding my hand and it's almost steadying, but it also makes me wonder if he can tell I'm shaking.
"I would have normally driven, but I drank too much tequila to drive, so I texted my driver."
Now that he's said that, it seems like a stupid question. Of course, he's not driving. We've been drinking.
I nod, unsure what to say in response, feeling slightly awkward. Sitting in the back of a car, being driven by a driver isn't new to me. My parents get chauffeured around everywhere. My Father is the Managing Director of one of the biggest publishing companies in the country. He has always been excessive, and his tastes are luxurious to the extreme. The only things he likes more than luxury is charity and church. It's something I dislike about my family; I don't like the excessive luxury. Trust me to find a man who might be just as over the top as my parents. I frown at the thought before trying to refocus on something else, anything else.
"You drive a hybrid."
He's surprised, I think. He's really hard to read. He doesn't give much away with his expressions. He seems closed off like he's purposefully trying to keep his distance. As if he doesn't want to be understood; I imagine he's good at poker.
Perhaps I should challenge him to a game.
Poker is a favourite pastime of mine, much to my parents' disappointment. The only disappointment I've ever caused them. No gambling was definitely on my list of rules.
"Yes," is all he says in response.
"The LS 600h L is a beautiful car." I say with a smile. "I've been trying to talk my parents into buying one for a while now."
It's not a lie. I've been trying to get my parents to buy a hybrid for years. My Father has driven a Mercedes for as long as I can remember. Every time he buys a new car, he does extensive research and then always chooses a Merc. I tried to get them to at least consider the Lexus, and when my Father refused that, I tried to get him to buy a Mercedes hybrid but he wasn't having any of it.
He nods his head before asking, "What do you drive?"
"BMW 7 series active hybrid," I tell him confidently.
I'm proud of driving a hybrid. As I'd told my Father the benefits far outweighed the negatives. My parents had bought the car for me when I graduated a few months ago. They had tried to talk me into getting a Mercedes again, like my last car, but I'd already decided on the car I wanted. My father needed convincing, but he gave in after I showed him how much money I would save on petrol. He wasn't quite as interested in the environmental benefits as I was, but at least he let me have the car I wanted. It isn't that my father doesn't care about the environment. He is better at recycling than I am. It is more that it isn't at the top of his list of considerations when buying a car.
"You know cars?"
He's shocked. His eyes are wide; this time I'm sure I've surprised him, and it pleases me to know that he doesn't understand me either. I'm not the only one confused. I'm grateful, and I don't feel quite as much of an idiot anymore.
I shrug my shoulders, saying, "I know hybrids."
I'm not exactly a car expert or a fanatic or anything. In fact, not at all. I wouldn't recognise half the cars passing us on the other side of the road.
If I could pay attention that is, but Landon is the centre of my attention. More than that he's the sole focus of my attention. In this moment, he is all I can see. Nothing else matters.
"Normally women just comment on the colour of the paint or the interior material." His eyebrow is raised again. "It's kind of hot that you know about my car."
"It's a nice car." It's a really nice car. So nice in fact that 'nice' seems like a massive understatement.
We're silent for a while. I want him to touch me. I need him to, but he doesn't. He just sits next to me, and even though he isn't looking at me, I get the impression he's watching me. I don't know what he's thinking, but I know that I'm nervous.
I wonder if he realises just how nervous I am, how nervous he makes me.
Taking several deep breaths to still myself, I watch the buildings pass by as we drive through the dark city. I love London at night; the buildings all lit up, reflected in the river.
We turn into an underground car park and Henry; I think that's his name, stops the car in front of a set of glass doors.
He steps out, and within a few seconds he's opened the door, and Landon is getting out, before offering me his hand.
"I'll just park the car, sir. Will you need anything else tonight, Mr Peters?"
Peters... I recognise the name. I can't work out where I recognise it from though, so I put it to the back of my mind. There are more pressing things trying to get my attention; like the fact that I think I'm going to lose my virginity tonight.
Who thought tonight would actually be the night that I finally broke some rules? Not me. That's for sure.
I sigh as I get out of the car, the scared part of me wants to run. Where; I don't know. Just away. But I give myself a gentle mental shake.
You can do this, I tell myself.
"No thank you, Henry."
Landon glances at him before returning his gaze to me. The look he's is giving me is... hot.
Really hot.
It makes me blush. His eyes are flashing between looking at my eyes and my mouth.
It's quite embarrassing to think that Henry knows what we are about to do. He must know, right? How could he not? It is pretty obvious. I'm the girl his boss has brought home from a bar. I can't help but wonder if this is a regular occurrence for him; just a normal night working for Landon.
Landon leads me through the glass doors and into one of the lifts that line the wall. He pulls out a key card and places it into a slot next to the buttons. The lift begins to move, and he pulls me towards him.
Before I can catch my breath, he's kissing me again, and I'm losing myself in him. His hands are even more explorative than they had been when we were dancing in the bar, now that we are alone.
Alone. The thought is daunting.
I've been alone with guys before; I've had boyfriends, but it was never like this with them. Their kisses left much to be desired by comparison, and I'd never been interested in the idea of letting them... Well, let's just say I wouldn't let them touch me the way I'm letting Landon touch me. Not a chance.
Want to read what happens in the lift - yup Aurora and I call it a lift instead of an elevator because we're British - you'll need to check out the more naughty version of this story. It's available for free pretty much everywhere.