Her breath hitches, and the question hangs heavy in the air between us. The seconds tick past, one after another, and my pulse thrums a steady beat as I wait for her answer.
“Yes.”
There’s a surety in her words, a certainty that has me responding purely on instinct. No thought, just need. I tangle my fingers in her hair, wrapping the soft strands around my hand as I draw her in close. She leans forward—no hesitation—and when our mouths collide, hers soft, warm, and welcoming, it’s both a blessing and a curse.
Because I know deep in my gut that one kiss, one night, will never be enough.
Lucy shifts to her knees, mouth moving hungrily over mine. She tastes like cheap champagne and sunshine, and it’s so goddamn intoxicating that when she deepens the kiss, her tongue sliding along the seam of my mouth, I fall back on the pillows, pulling her down on top of me.
She laughs, and I can’t help but join in.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” she says, breathless.
“Don’t be so sure about that.” I stretch up, kissing her long and hard and deep, my hands settling on the generous slopes of her hips. She’s so damn soft, her skin so smooth. I want to taste every inch of her, to map every peak and valley with my mouth. “I’ve been thinking about this all week.”
Her dark eyes are unreadable, but her lips curve in a sexy smile. “It took you an entire week to work up the courage to kiss me? So much for your reputation as a heartthrob.”
I pinch her ass, and she squeals, moving against me with the kind of tantalizing friction that has every nerve in my body standing at attention.
Lucy lowers her mouth, brushing her lips gently against mine as she rolls her hips, sliding along my length. Her movements are slow.
Precise.
Teasing.
White-hot need blasts through my veins, and tension gathers at the base of my spine, ratcheting higher with each sinful stroke. She feels so fucking good straddling me, her dark hair falling around us like a curtain. I want to flip her over and bury myself between her thighs. Lose myself in her wet heat until she’s screaming my name in ecstasy.
The need is almost enough to make me forget myself.
Almost.
I gently squeeze Lucy’s hips, holding her in place. Her hot, wet pussy is pressed to my cock, and only a few scraps of fabric separate us.
It’s fucking torture.
Should’ve thought of that before you started going at it like rabbits, Hart.
Above me, Lucy captures her lower lip between her teeth. “Is something wrong?”
The room is dim, but I don’t miss the uncertainty in her eyes. It’s like a sucker punch to the gut. I hate knowing I made her feel that way, even for a second, but I have to be sure this is what she wants.
“I need to know we’re on the same page before we go any further.”
Her brow furrows, but she says nothing.
“I’m attracted to you, Lucy. There’s no denying it, but I need to make sure you understand that what I can offer you—it’s purely physical. I don’t do relationships.” Christ. It sounds cold even to my own ears, but this is the way it has to be. “If we do this, it’s just sex. It changes nothing between us.”
There’s a long pause, and it’s awkward as fuck, but I wait her out.
This has to be her choice. I can’t pressure her or cajole her or talk her into it. She has to decide for herself if she can handle a no-strings fling.
Finally, she nods, the corner of her mouth twisting in a suggestive smirk. “What happens on the road stays on the road.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Lucy
What happens on the road stays on the road?
