Augustine cursed under his breath. This was torture. The way she looked at him, the way she unknowingly provoked him—it was more than he could take.
"This is crazy," he muttered, his restraint hanging by a thread. His muscles flexed, his breathing uneven.
Then, abruptly, he issued a stern command, "Gustave, stop the car and get out."
Gustave pulled the car to the side of the road and jumped out, shutting the door behind him. He didn't look back, didn't question anything.
Augustine wasted no time. He pressed Anne against the seat, his lips crashing onto hers with unrestrained hunger. His hand traced the smooth curve of her shoulder, relishing the warmth of her skin before sliding lower, finding the soft swell of her chest.
Anne tensed. A sudden wave of unease washed over her, her stomach churning violently. A strangled sound escaped her lips as she shoved against his chest with surprising force.
