The Billionaire's Sinful Affair

CH.13

"Where are you going with that injured foot, lady?" Mr. Blackthorn's gruff tone jolted me back to reality.

I swallowed. Hard. Beating myself for harboring such thoughts toward a married man.

What if he noticed I was staring at his…

Oh lord! My thighs involuntarily robbed together to ease the ache I was feeling at the space between them and then winced slightly due to my injured foot.

His eyes scanned over me intently, not missing my pained movements.

"You're limping badly. You can barely even walk," he observed bluntly, cutting right to the point as usual.

I didn't bother with polite pleasantries since the gruff man hadn't offered any himself.

"I have no serious injuries, just some bruises. I can walk to the main road okay. There, I'll take a taxi to my destination," I replied, unable to wipe the vaguely psychotic-looking smile that had now returned off my face.

The thought of Richard's impotence was simply too comical not to grin about.

"Have a good day, Mr. Blackthorn," I added politely, turning to continue on my limping way down the sidewalk.

“Get in! I'll give you a ride since I'm headed that way anyway." His voice made it clear that refusal wasn't an option.

I considered protesting for a brief moment, not wanting to deal with his interrogation about my injuries. However, the throbbing ache in my legs and feet outweighed my pride.

I reluctantly agreed with a small nod and hobbled over to his idling car.

"You don't need to strain yourself to help me. I'm sure your path is different from mine," I said, still trying to politely wave off his offer.

My voice sounded small and uncertain even to my own ears.

Mr. Blackthorn's eyes grew sharper as he studied me.

I could swear I sensed something dark… something dangerous flashed in his eyes for a moment before it was quickly masked by his usual cold yet somewhat approachable demeanor.

"It is only polite to accept help when an elder offers it to you." His words carried authority, reminding me of a stern but well-meaning grandfather.

Since it did seem to be in my best interest, given the throbbing pain in my feet, I gave a small nod of acquiescence and accepted his offer.

I went around to the other side of his black luxury car, admiring how the sunlight gleamed off its polished surface.

Then I carefully slid into the buttery soft leather passenger seat beside him. The rich scent of cologne… of him so deliciously filled my nostrils.

"Thank you for your offer. That's very kind of you," I said, placing my small tote bag on my lap and smoothing my hands over the soft material.

I could feel the warmth of embarrassment creeping up my neck.

Mr. Blackthorn finally spoke up after a few moments of tense, awkward silence, during which I became hyper-aware of every small movement and sound.

"Your destination," he instructed, gesturing with one long-fingered hand toward the high-resolution touchscreen on the dashboard.

I leaned forward, the seatbelt strap pulling taut across my body, and carefully typed in the clinic’s address.

Then I leaned back on the plush seat with a small sigh, trying to make myself as small and unobtrusive as possible in the spacious cabin.

"I hope my needing a ride won't delay you from your work or any important obligations," my words tumbled out in a rush while I fidgeted nervously with the strap of my bag.

The soft leather creaked beneath me as I shifted. "I really don't like the feeling that I'm being an imposition or burden to others," I added, biting my lower lip anxiously.

He turned to face me fully then and his intense eyes fixed me with an inscrutable look.

The fading sunlight caught the silver at his temples, giving him a regal appearance.

"I wouldn't have suggested giving you a ride if I was in a hurry or had pressing matters to attend to," he stated flatly.

The tires crunched softly on the asphalt as we pulled into the street.

I instinctively raised my arm up to shield my head in a defensive flinch - an involuntary reaction born from past unpleasant experiences.

The movement was quick and jerky and my body tensed as if preparing for an impact.

Mr. Blackthorn reached over with one large hand and gently but firmly took my forearm. His skin felt warm against mine.

He guided my arm down and away from my face with a surprisingly tender touch for such a stern-looking man.

My gaze was instantly captured by his dark, piercing blue eyes, which briefly flicked over my shoulder toward the rear of the car.

I found myself unable to look away, mesmerized by the depth of concern I saw there.

"Seat belt!" he stated, breaking the spell of the moment.

"Oh!" I felt my face flush hot with embarrassment at my skittish, inexplicable behavior.

The heat spread from my cheeks down my neck, and I silently cursed my fair complexion that made every blush so obvious.

He didn't ask any questions or draw further attention to my odd reaction, for which I was immensely grateful. Instead, he simply picked up the seatbelt strap and leaned over me to buckle me in, his warm breath fanning my cheek for a moment before he drew back.

His woodsy and masculine scent lingered in the air between us.

"You should have just told me to buckle up myself," I mumbled, still flustered and feeling foolish.

I couldn't meet his eyes; thus, I focused my gaze out the window instead, watching as the familiar houses of our neighborhood slid by.

He gave me a look I couldn't quite read from my peripheral vision. His expression was of amusement and something else I couldn't identify.

"Perhaps I have not yet grasped that the passenger is an adult woman, not a child," he said dryly, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly.

I squeezed my bag tightly in childish frustration, feeling my cheeks burn again. "I'm not a child!" I insisted with a small pout, finally turning to face him again.

My voice came out more petulant than I intended, which only served to make me feel more childish.

He didn't respond or react to my outburst but kept his eyes on the road as he drove.

The silence stretched between us, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional click of the turn signal.

"Where is your husband? How could he let you leave alone in this condition?" He suddenly asked out of nowhere. Disapproval was written all over his face.

I turned my face toward the window, resting my forehead against the cool glass as I watched the world outside blur by.

A sigh escaped my lips, fogging the window slightly before dissipating.

"My husband is busy with work as usual," I began. "For him, his career always comes before everything and everyone else. I don't think I even occupy a place on his list of priorities anymore, but I don't really care about that anyway." I disclosed far more than I expected to this virtual stranger. However, I had no regrets. "He doesn't know my feet are injured and I can barely walk. It's not like he'd notice anyway," I added bitterly, immediately regretting the harshness of my tone.