I reach between us to adjust myself. Hannah’s lips part as she watches me cup my crotch and shift my dick so the happy guy’s pointed up.
“Wow.” Hannah’s still staring between my legs. “You’re huge.”
“And you’re gorgeous,” I murmur as our mouths crash back down on each other’s.
And I’m the sucker who thought a single kiss would be enough.
Nothing will be enough.
Not until I can sink inside Hannah’s moist heat and fuck her like we both want.
“I want you,” I mutter as I trail kisses across her jaw. “God, I want you, Hannah.”
She reaches for the hem of my t-shirt and nearly rips it as she tries to take it off of me.
I help her out by grabbing the back of it and dragging it over my head and off.
“Please, Maverick.” She’s nearly panting as she writhes against my erection.
“You want me?” I whisper in her ear.
“Yes,” she says. “Only you.”
Beep!
The honking of a horn in the nearby big rig and trailer area wakes me up to where we are.
I grip Hannah’s forearms and push her back from me. “I won’t fuck you for the first time in a truck,” I say.
“Why not?” Her hands are now on the fly of my jeans.
I stop breathing as she undoes the snap and then slowly drags down the zipper, being careful not to catch the metal teeth in my erection.
“Please don’t make me wait another seven hours,” she says in a pleading tone.
Seven hours.
Christ, I’m not going to last seven minutes.
I glance around.
Still no one in our section of the parking lot. When I purchased the truck from him, Dylan showed me how the back windows are darker to keep out the sun, which makes them nearly impossible to see through.
“Climb into the back,” I tell Hannah. “I’m still not going to fuck you, but I’ll make sure you come.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hannah
I’ll make sure you come.
He’s so cocky.
Are all athletes this cocky?
I don’t care because Maverick is the only athlete I want. He’s the only man I want.
I climb into the backseat and sit down shakily. My thighs tremble. My pulse races. And my heart has never felt this open.
