Complete Me (The Stark Trilogy)

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have left the Jeep for one of my assistants to pick up. I mean, if you two want some alone time.”
    “I know I must seem terribly fickle,” I say airily. “But when true love strikes … well, you simply have to go with it.”
    “Yes,” he says, looking at me with unwavering heat. “You do.”
    I take my eyes off the road long enough to grin at him. We’re almost to my condo, cruising along Ventura Boulevard. I turn on Laurel Canyon, but then drive right past the intersecting street that leads to the place I share with Jamie.
    “Joyriding, Ms. Fairchild?”
    I run my hand lightly over Cooper’s dash. “A little respect, please, Mr. Stark. We’re bonding.”
    “I may have to call Coop out for a duel at dawn,” Damien says. “Because I’m not interested in sharing you. I want you all alone and to myself.”
    “Do you? I have to admit, I like the sound of that.”
    “I’m very relieved to hear it.”
    “Remember what I said about a Lamborghini being almost like foreplay?”
    “It will be a very long time before I forget that, Ms. Fairchild.”
    “A Mini is, too.”
    “Is that so?” Damien says. “I confess I’ve never thought of the Mini as sexy. Cute, absolutely. Eye-catching, most definitely. Sexy, I’m not so sure.”
    “Don’t wound Cooper’s ego,” I say. “Besides, it’s not a question of appearance. It’s a question of power.”
    “Is that so?”
    “Feel that?” I ask, as I shift gears. Cooper does me proud, cruising up the hill toward Mulholland Drive without even the slightest hint of hesitation. “Power,” I repeat. “And endurance. Very important qualities. In a car.”
    “I couldn’t agree more,” he says. “Responsiveness. Handling.”
    “Like I said, all things that turn you on. Ergo, foreplay.”
    I turn right and pick up speed as Coop takes control of the famous curves along Mulholland Drive.
    “And what turns
you
on?”
    Since I don’t want to go careening off a mountaintop, I don’t look at him. “You do,” I say.
    For a moment he says nothing, but I feel the weight of his gaze upon me. Then his voice, rough and demanding. “Pull over.”
    “What?” We’ve rounded a curve, and are back on a straightaway, so now I shoot him a quick glance.
    “There,” he says, pointing to a dirt-covered area overlooking the valley. It’s the kind of place where tourists snap pictures and teenagers come to park. “Pull over, stop the car.”
    I do as he asks. “What on earth—” I begin, as soon as I’ve killed the engine.
    I can’t finish the question, however, because his lips are upon mine, his hand on the back of my neck urging me forward. His mouth open. Hot. Demanding. Taking. I moan and lean forward, craving the feel of his body pressed to mine—then howl in pain when the gearshift stabs me in the gut.
    “I think it’s Cooper who’s the jealous one,” Damien says with a wry twist to his mouth. “Are you okay?”
    In my head, I’m running a monologue of very colorful curses. To Damien, I just nod.
    “Stay put,” he says, then opens his door and gets out. He walks to my side of the car and opens the door for me, then holds out his hand. I take it and let him pull me to my feet.
    “I think I destroyed the mood,” I say.
    He turns so that we are both facing the valley and the panorama of lights stretched out against a blanket of night. “No,” he says. “Just changed it a little. But how can there be anything but romance when we’re floating above a blanket of stars?”
    “Romance, Mr. Stark?” I tease. “Not hot and sweaty sex in the back of a tiny car?”
    “Romance,” he says, with such passion that I have to lean against the side of the car to remain upright.
    “Damien …” My voice is soft, choked with emotion.
    “I know.” Gently, he strokes his fingertips over my cheek. “Close your eyes.”
    I do, my lips slightly parted. He touches my hair, strokes my back. And then I feel the butterfly soft brush of his lips at my temple, then the corner of my eye. I grin, not only from the sweetness of it, but because he is touching me so delicately that it almost tickles. And then his lips are upon mine, so achingly tender that tears well in my eyes.
    “Hey,” he says when he breaks the kiss and cups my chin. Gently, he runs the edge of his thumb under my eye, wiping away an errant tear. “None of that.” His eyes are so full of love I could get lost in them.
    I wrap my arms around him, then sigh when he