50 Shades of Drake 1 and 2

Chapter Twenty-One

    As the limousine cruised through D.C., Destiny touched a hand to her cheekbone and winced.

    Aubrey looked over at her, his brows drawing together in concern. He leaned forward and rummaged around the mini bar. When he settled back in his seat, he held a bottled water and an empty glass in his hands. He reached into his suit jacket pocket and withdrew a silk handkerchief. He set the handkerchief and glass in his lap and opened the bottled water. As always, his movements were meticulous. He filled the glass halfway with water and screwed the top back on the bottle. He placed the bottle at his feet and twisted in his seat to face her, giving her a long look.

    Guilt dwelled in the depths of her beautiful brown eyes. A bruise was beginning to darken his cheek, and she felt like it was her fault.

    He smiled sadly and stroked the side of her face. He turned her face towards him and tilted her head so he could get a good look of the cut marring her cheekbone. He lifted the handkerchief off of his lap and dipped a corner of it into the glass of water. As he went to work wiping the blood from the broken skin on her cheekbone, he said softly, "So, this...Jordan. He's quite a character."

    For some reason, the gross understatement made her laugh.

    He paused in wiping her cheek, waiting for her to be still.

    She quieted her laughter and sat regally with her hands clasped in her lap and her head held high. "I've never seen him that angry," she told him. "It really scared me. I still don't like leaving Candace in that apartment by herself."

    "Do you think he'd do anything to hurt your friend?" he asked as he dipped the corner of the handkerchief into the water glass again. 

    "I doubt it, but I've never seen him in that kind of a rage before."

    "Are you sure you don't want to go back?"

    "She was pretty determined to get me out of the house, so we don't need to go back. But I will text her in a few minutes, just to check in."

    She reached for her purse and cried out in pain. "Ah!" She frowned down at her arm.

    He reached across her lap and lifted her arm. She had a two-inch gash in her elbow. "He really roughed you up," he said, lifting his eyes to hers. He lowered her arm and dabbed the handkerchief in the glass of water again. Then, he slid off of the seat into a kneeling position.

    "Maybe there was a rock in the grass or something," she muttered. "Nothing he did would have directly caused a cut like that."

    He parted her knees and moved forward in between them. He looked up at her with a devilish grin and ran his fingers along her arm. He twisted her arm and dabbed the cut on her elbow with the wet corner of the handkerchief.

    She watched him, in awe of how gentle he was with her. His eyes were lowered and his forehead was creased with concentration. She didn't realize she had a dopey smile on her face until he looked up at her and laughed.

    "What are you smiling at?"

    She shook her head, her eyes wide and telling. "Nothing," she muttered, turning her head to look out of the window. 

    He arched a brow at her and finished tending to her elbow. "Are there any other areas on your body that need attention?"

    Graphically sensual visuals were the first thoughts that leapt to her mind at the suggestive phrasing he'd used. She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to determine if he was serious or joking.

    He stared back at her, and there was the smallest hint of innuendo in the depth of his dark eyes.

    She rolled her eyes. "You think you're so smooth," she said, taking the handkerchief from him. "Now it's your turn. Sit." She gestured to the spot beside her on the car seat.