“It seems hard. Skis at least point in the direction I want to go.”
“Nah, it’s just like surfing.”
“Something else I’ve never done.”
“I thought you were a SoCal girl through and through? I could teach you.” The offer was out there before he thought better of it.
He couldn’t. Shouldn’t even have agreed to teach her about racing, although…he hadn’t ever actually agreed. It had just happened, like an inevitability. And he’d made her swear she wouldn’t tell her father.
He couldn’t stack other secrets on top of that.Don’t tell him about surfing lessons. Don’t tell him about a snowboarding trip. Don’t tell him I want to peel your clothes off and lick every erogenous zone in your body.
“We don’t have a surfboard here tonight,” she said softly. “What else can you teach me?”
A clear invitation.
Her fingers brushed his abs, making his whole midsection tense. Making his cock throb.
And then her hand slipped under his shirt.
“Hey, easy there…” He grabbed her wrist.
“We have to do something with this extra adrenaline.” She grinned and hooked her fingers over his belt.
His dick leapt and his vision swam at the deep pulse of delight that the teasing, intimate gesture roused in him. This girl—mature, willing woman—shouldn’t have this effect on him. He had better control than this.
“What do you usually do after a night of racing?”
Go home and jerk off. “Nothing like this.”
“What should I do? For the full experience…”
He dropped his gaze to her soft, pink lips. Maybe he didn’t have better control than this. Because nobody had ever tested his control the way Monica did.
“Kiss me,” she breathed. And if it had sounded haughty or demanding, maybe he could have resisted. But it was a plea, like she really didn’t think he would, and if there was one thing he knew deep in his marrow that he could never do, it would be to let this woman think he didn’t want her.
She was stunning. Funny, gorgeous, smart, and resilient.
Kiss her?
It would be his God damned pleasure. He settled his hand at the side of her neck, savouring the way her breath hitched in anticipation and how her fingers curled into the front of his t-shirt. He leaned in, almost brushing his lips against hers, then waited.
Giving her a chance to push the grease monkey away.
She tugged at his clothes instead, wanting him to close the gap. He turned and curved over her, pinning her between him and the car.
She wants this.
It wouldn’t end well. It might be a guillotine coming down on his career. On that health insurance and 401k he liked so much, and the work visa that allowed him to stay in America. But he couldn’t stop himself from lowering his head to take a sip from her lips.
Except that first brush of their mouths sparked a wildfire, a rush of heat he didn’t see coming, should have seen coming, and suddenly he was consumed with need. He pulled at her lips again, desperately, and she surged up against him.
Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her throat working beneath the grip of his hand, and he rocked her against the side of the car. Her legs wrapped around his thighs at the same moment her lips parted for him, and then he buried himself in her taste and in her soft curves. His tongue stroked deep and his hips thrust up, finding her core with precision.
If he wasn’t swallowing all of her moans, she’d be crying out his name.
He felt like a king on top of the world. Behind them, far away, the city lights glittered. But right here, magically, they were all alone.
And their first kiss was rapidly devolving into a dry hump on the side of the road. Heat licked up his spine. He traced his thumb to the base of her neck, to the wild thump of her pulse, and he focused all of his attention there. On her reaction to his body wedged between her thighs, and the way she turned to liquid in his arms when he found exactly the right spot to pulse against.
