Chapter 361
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Chapter 361:
“We are actually leaving for dinner, Grandma,” he said smoothly. “I need to feed my wife before I lock her in the bedroom for the rest of the night p>
Jocelyn gasped and slapped his shoulder hard. “Gaston p>
Grandma Wolfe laughed out loud and waved them away. “Go. Have fun p>
An hour later, Gaston was behind the wheel of the black armored Maybach, having dismissed Chen for the night.
They had dinner at a highly exclusive, dimly lit French bistro near Central Park. Throughout the entire meal, Gaston’s eyes had been dark and heavy, tracking Jocelyn’s every movement like a starving wolf.
After dinner, he did not drive back to the penthouse.
He pulled the Maybach onto a secluded, tree-lined street on the edge of Central Park and killed the engine. The street was dark, illuminated only by the faint orange glow of a distant streetlamp.
Gaston unbuckled his seatbelt and turned his massive frame toward Jocelyn. He reached out, his long fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw.
“Did you recover from the hotel?” he asked, his voice dropping into a dark, gravelly whisper that sent shivers straight down her spine.
Jocelyn’s breath hitched. The enclosed space of the car suddenly felt incredibly warm.
D𝗼w𝗇𝗅о𝖺d𝖺𝗯l𝗲 P𝘋𝗙𝘴 𝘰𝗻 ѕ.𝗰𝘰𝘮
She reached out, grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket, and pulled him across the center console.
Their lips crashed together — instant, explosive combustion.
Gaston hit a button on the dashboard. The front seats slid automatically forward, the rear seats reclined, and a massive space opened up in the back of the Maybach. The privacy partition rolled up, sealing off the windshield entirely.
He climbed over the console, pressing Jocelyn back against the premium leather. His hands were everywhere — desperate and possessive. He pushed her dress up her thighs, his mouth trailing hot, wet kisses down her neck.
Jocelyn let out a soft moan, her fingers tangling in his dark hair. The danger of being parked on a public New York City street sent a massive spike of adrenaline surging through her veins.
Gaston reached for the zipper of her dress.
Suddenly, a blinding beam of white light slashed through the dark tinted window.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
A heavy flashlight knocked sharply against the driver’s side glass.
Jocelyn shrieked. She violently shoved Gaston off her, frantically pulling her dress down and scrambling upright. Her heart was hammering so fast she thought she might be having a heart attack.
Gaston froze. Every muscle in his back went completely rigid. A dark, murderous aura exploded from his body. He had been interrupted at the absolute outer edge of his control.
He took a long, steadying breath, willing himself not to punch a hole through the window.
He reached into the center console, pulled out his wallet, and extracted a solid black metal card bearing the Collins Group crest. Then he pressed the window button, lowering the glass exactly one inch.
Outside stood two NYPD patrol officers, shining their flashlights aggressively at the car.
“License and registration, buddy,” one of the cops barked. “You can’t park here p>