Release Me

polished and primped skin.
    He taps on Jamie’s door and tells her that he’ll be seeing me back to Los Angeles. She’s welcome to stay another night. Edward will be back to fetch her at nine in the morning. Jamie’s thank-you is so enthusiastic it borders on embarrassing, but Damien just tells her she’s very, very welcome.
    “What are we doing?” I ask as we walk the path toward the front parking area.
    “Celebrating,” he says, and I can tell from his enigmatic smile that I’m not going to get more of an answer than that.
    I expect to see his uber-expensive car with the odd name, but apparently Damien wasn’t kidding about having three Ferraris. A glossy black one is parked right in front of the reception area.
    “I thought you might like to take her for a spin,” he says.
    I gape at him. “Seriously?”
    He nods.
    “Seriously?” I repeat, and this time he laughs. He opens the driver’s door for me and motions for me to slide in. “Just start slow.” His grin turns wicked. “But it’s no fun if you keep it slow.”
    The bucket seat hugs me and I sigh as I wait for Damien to get in on his side. “Is she new?”
    “No, why?”
    “New-car smell. Um, she’s not like some rare classic car that’s irreplaceable, is she?”
    He reaches over and slides the key into the ignition. “Drive, Nikki.”
    “Drive. Right.” I take a deep breath, punch in the clutch, and fire up the engine.
    The motor purrs, and it’s a sweet, sweet sound. Slowly and carefully, I move the car into first gear and ease out of the driveway and onto the caliche road leading up to the resort. “Go left when you hit the street,” Damien says. “There are no other homes or businesses past the resort. I doubt there will be any traffic at all.”
    I nod and ease slowly over the caliche. I’m crawling, actually, and I think Damien may be a little frustrated with my snail’s pace, but there is no way I’m risking little rocks flying up and chipping the paint on this baby.
    And, yeah, I’m freaking nervous.
    When I arrive at the intersection, I pause. “You’re sure about this?”
    “Hell yes,” he says.
    “What if I strip the gears?”
    “I hope you do. I think a striptease would be an appropriate apology for something like that, don’t you?”
    I squirm, half-wishing he didn’t have such an intense and immediate effect on me. “Don’t talk like that,” I say. “I need to concentrate.”
    He laughs, then takes my hand and puts it on the stick. “Allthat power in the palm of your hand,” he says, and now I
know
he’s just trying to make me wet.
    “Boys and their toys,” I retort, then ease the car left onto the street. “Here goes,” I say, and accelerate. It takes me a minute to get used to the steering and the speed, but I have to admit it’s exhilarating, and soon I’m all the way into seventh gear—
seventh!
—and the speedometer’s hovering over one hundred eighty. The ride is remarkably smooth, and I think I could take it even faster, but the foothills are getting pretty big in the front window and I see the road curving up ahead and I’m still nervous enough that I can’t do this on a curve.
    I ease up, downshift, and pull over to the side of the road. As soon as the car’s off, I peel myself out of the driver’s seat and climb over the console until I’m straddling Damien. “That was amazing,” I say. “Totally, completely amazing.” I kiss him hard and fast, then press his hand to my leg. “Am I trembling? God, I think my body’s still vibrating just from the speed of this car.”
    “
Boys
and their toys?” he says with raised brows. “I think this qualifies as a girl toy, too.”
    “Heck yeah, it does.” I kiss him again, and he opens his mouth, drawing me in. His hands ease up the front of my blouse to cup my breasts, and I moan and reach down for his fly. He’s hard—I can feel him against my leg—but he shakes his head, his grin mischievous. “I don’t think so,” he says. “I think I’m going to make you wait.” I run my teeth over my lower lip, because I don’t want to wait. And yet there’s something tantalizing about the idea of such sweet torture. To be hot and needy and anticipating his touch.
    He slides his hand between my legs and strokes me quickly, just one cruel little tease. I buck up and tighten my grip on his leg. “Oh, baby,” he says, “tell me you liked our toy.”
    “Oh, yes.”
    “I have a new game.”
    “Game?”
    He kisses me. “I