His smile is all sunshine and rainbows. "You want to help run the kitchen?"
"I mean…I probably wouldn't trust me to cook anything, but yeah. I used to volunteer back home a lot. I want to help make a difference here, too." I shrug. "Put me to work."
"You're fucking incredible, you know that?"
"I want to kiss you right now," I blurt.
He grins, that panty-melting smile that has my heart skipping a beat. "Yeah? Then what's stopping you, princess?"
"Nothing," I whisper, hauling him down with his tie until my lips crash against his.
He groans, the sound vibrating through my entire body, and then his tongue is in my mouth, demanding everything. God, the way he kisses me is unreal, like he's trying to taste the edges of my soul and claim it as his own.
My arms wind around his neck as I press against him. My back is against the cold steel of his truck, my legs parting so he can wedge his thigh between them.
His hands run all over me, setting little fires everywhere they touch. I can't get enough. I want his hands on me. I want him everywhere. Hell, I want to climb him like a tree.
Judging by the way he's grinding into me and groaning my name, he wouldn't tell me no. If anything, he'd probably boost me up and let me ride.
I don't even hear the photographer until the camera flashes, setting off a detonation of light behind my closed eyelids.
Austin jerks back. His eyes spring open, landing on the man standing on the opposite side of the parking lot, his camera aimed at us.
"Motherfucker," he mutters, his jaw tight. "Get in the truck, Serena."
I scramble into the cab, my heart pounding so hard I can barely breathe. Yet again, we've been busted. And this time, they aren't going to have to use angles and the power of suggestion to give the world a show.
Austin's hands were all over my ass. I was splayed across the side of his truck with his tongue painting me like a goddamn French girl.
I was supposed to be photographed on his arm, not dry-fucking him in a public park.
For a second, I think about calling it right here, ending this before it can spiral any further. Before the whole world thinks I'm nothing but another desperate fan willing to debase myself to land in his bed.
But my hands are shaking, my body is on fire, and I realize, to my absolute horror, that I don't care what the whole world thinks right now. I care about Austin. I care about how he makes me feel and the complicated, amazing person I'm realizing he is.
I don't want this to end.
I want more.
Christ Almighty. Maybe I am just another desperate fan willing to debase myself to land in his bed.
He climbs in, slamming the door. "I'm sorry. That wasn't supposed to happen," he says, his voice ragged, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "I'll make sure the pictures don't leak."
"It doesn't matter."
He glances over at me, one brow arched, his expression caught between hope and worry.
"I don't care about the photos."
"You don't care about the photos?"
"No." I shake my head, licking my lips. My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest. "Fuck the photos. Can we please just go to my place already?"
He looks at me,reallylooks at me. I'm not sure what he sees, but something in his eyes turns dark and wild. "Yeah, princess. We can do that."
We don't talk much on the drive. Every time I glance over at him, I want to crawl into his lap and make him lose control. I'm wet, aching, and maybe a little terrified of what's going to happen next, but I know I'm not stopping.
I think maybe he feels the same way, because he doesn't loosen his grip on the steering wheel a single time. And we damn near run three different lights.
