Page 59 of Coveted

I guess my discomfort is obvious. “I didn’t say that.”

He moves to the door, like he’s already decided we’re done. “I’ll take you back to campus.”

Though I’m relieved to leave Lucan’s place, a hint of disappointment burns in me too. Maybe I’m nosy, but I want to hear about his mother.

I stand. “Cormac said he would drive me.”

His frown deepens. “Who the fuck is Cormac?”

“Uh, your driver?”

He exhales heavily. “O’Connor. That’s what I call him.”

“You don’t know his first name?” I ask incredulously.

“I do.” Lucan shakes his head and briefly closes his eyes, as if cursing himself inwardly. “For a second, I thought you were letting someone I don’t know pick you up. I’d need to run a background check first, that’s all.”

“That’s all? Are you for real?”

“Yes. Let’s go.”

“But Cormac⁠—”

“He’s on a job,” says Lucan. “I’ll take you.”

“Okay,” I say in defeat, following him through marble halls.

At least this will be over soon. I’ll be back in my dorm room, free of him. When I’m close to Lucan, I’m hyperaware of every nerve in my body, and I never know what he’ll say or do.

As he walks, he taps something into his phone I can’t see.

I dislike the idea of being in a car with him, but I can’t catch a bus from here. A ride-share would cost more than I currently have in my bank account.

He brings me to a garage that looks more like an airplane hangar. Though he leaves the overhead lights switched off, I see the outline of dozens of gleaming vehicles, including several motorbikes.

The car he selects looks like black liquid. Expensive, futuristic black liquid.

He opens the passenger door for me, and the car is low enough that entering feels more like dropping in than stepping.

The smell is new and leathery, with a hint of something dangerously familiar.

Him. His wintry, expensive scent.

Lucan gets behind the wheel. The engine growls to life, sending a low, steady vibration through the seat, up my spine.

“Seatbelt on,” is all he says as he directs the car from the garage.

Knowing his focus will be on driving, I glance at him as he pulls out onto the driveway.

He has one hand on the wheel, with the other resting loosely against his muscular thigh. The plain black T-shirt clings to his shoulders and broad chest.

He’s not a fidgeter. I notice this, because I’m one.

Everything he does is calm and controlled, like he expects the world to bend to his will.

On the open road, Lucan presses his foot down. The car surges forward so smoothly and quickly my stomach takes a second to catch up.

Trees blur through the tinted windows, the road stretching out ahead of us like an invitation.