She gasped as he flattened her against a bank of cabinets. Not entirely necessary with the dark tint of the back windows, but this was him playing it subtle, and fuck, she felt good in his arms, soft in all the right places.
“Get your hands off me.” The heels of her hands dug into his pecs. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Saving us both.” He angled his head toward the clubhouse.
She stretched to look through the tinted window, her grapefruit-sized tits mashing against his shirt.
“Oh.” The pressure of her hands lessened as soon as she spotted her boss and his mom. “Thanks, I guess.” She scowled up at him. “But you can let go of me now.”
“Sorry.”Not sorry.
He let her slide away and deeper into the van. The inside was a lot bigger than he’d thought, even if he had to duck his head to accommodate his six-foot-three height. Besides the bank of cabinets and shelves lining one side, a stainless-steel prepcounter ran the length of the other with space cut out for a small sink and refrigerator.
Propping a hip against the counter, Legs resumed her position, arms folded. Too late. He’d already seen those high beams poking through her shirt, felt them grazing his chest through layers of clothing. He couldn’t wait to feel them skin to skin.
“Look,” she said, “I apologize if I offended you earlier. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped.”
With one more peek out the window—still there—he turned to face her, mimicking her stance. She thought this was about her reactions to his flirtation with Tits?
Okay, so maybe it was. He’d enjoyed the silent commentary early. His dick had, anyway. “You sound about as apologetic as you did about the raspberry.”
Her mouth dropped open.If only she was on her knees.“You were listening?”
“Eavesdropping.”
She clamped her mouth shut. “Hmph.” Her frown deepened. “Do you blame me? I mean, how can you not remember the name of a woman you slept with?”
“That’s why they call it a one-night stand.”
She scoffed and waved a hand at him.
“Can you remember all the names of the men you’ve fu-er, slept with?” A flush stained her cheeks, enticing him. He straightened and took a predatory step closer. “You can’t, can you?
Her chin lifted. “I assure you, I can. Every one of them.” She leaned forward. “I have them written in a little black book with stars for each orgasm, hearts for the ones who fell in love with me, and a number to describe the size of their dick.”
“Really?” He grinned at her sarcasm and couldn’t resist reaching out to wipe the lie from her lips with his thumb. The pulse at the base of her throat ticked faster. “Can’t wait to put them all to shame.”
“Oh no, fuckboy.” She swatted his hand away. “You couldn’t pay me to sleep with you.”
“Sleeping is not what I have in mind.” Planting both palms on the cold metal counter on either side of her hips, he moved in for the kill. “What I want from you is a long night of hot and sweaty, down and dirty fucking.”
Her lips parted on a gasp, but a flush stained her porcelain cheeks a pretty shade of pink, and her gaze flickered to his mouth for a fraction of a second before flittering away. Maybe she wasn’t as immune as she professed. He lowered his head, a breath away from taking advantage of a weak moment. One kiss and she’d be putty in his hands.
As if to prove him wrong, her head snapped back, the lips he’d been about to plunder curled into a snarl, and one hand flattened on his chest, halting his momentum.
“Whoa, there, Romeo. I think you must have me confused with What’s Her Name. Remember her?” Blue eyes rose to the heavens in a mocking roll, and her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth. “Oh, wait, that’s right. You don’t.”
The way she deadpanned the last part tugged at the grin he was fighting. Legs wasn’t just hot. She was fucking spicy.
Mmm, I’ll bet she’s wild between the sheets.
“Well, let me tell you,” she added, “I’m not going to fall for that malarkey.”
“Malarkey?”Is that even a word?“Sounds like something my grandpa used to say.”
“Yeah, it means flattery will get you nowhere, asshole. Ugh. Does that shit really work for you?”
He shrugged. “Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time.”
