‘I’m pleased it happened to you.’ I press my lips against hers for the briefest of moments, her hand on my chest halting me.
‘Tonight, it has to be one-off. It’s something I won’t repeat.’
‘Like last time?’ A smile tugs at my lips, but she doesn’t return it. ‘You know, that morning, I didn’t run out and leave you. I got caught up on a work call.’ Her expression turns from cautious to unimpressed. ‘It’s true. The pesky people in Tokyo seem to keep their own times. The world doesn’t revolve around jolly old British Standard Time.’
‘So you were on the phone?’
‘There’s no need to sound so dubious. I also had an elderly relative to look after. I needed to go back to make sure they were okay.’
‘Do I look stupid?’ She jerks her head, her hand suddenly on her cocked hip. ‘I must look dumb if you expect me to believe—’
‘Here, let me prove it to you.’ I pull my phone from my pocket, unlock the screen, then show her the photograph I took the day before I found her stuck in the dog door. In it, I’m shirtless and sitting on the grass in the garden, wearing just shorts.I’d worked out. A little yoga in the sunshine is good for the soul.Rufus sits between my legs, and I have my arm around him, danglingThe Timesnewspaper in front, folded to show the date. It was meant to be a humorousproof of lifesent to my father who was fretting over leaving his beloved pet. Or perhaps a reflection of his lack of confidence in my ability to look after the dog properly.
Miranda takes the phone from my hand, tilting it under the pool of streetlight to see it better, I suppose.
‘If you send this to an elderly aunt, you’d better be prepared for a stroke.’
‘Is that a promise?’
‘What?’ Her gaze flicks upward to mine.
‘You promise you’ll stroke me?’
‘You’re a nightmare,’ she retorts, pushing the phone back at me. ‘I don’t believe you had any elderly anyone to look after. You’re just making excuses for being a prick.’
‘You’re looking at my elderly relative. He’s the blonder of the two; the hairier one.’ I turn the phone back to her briefly before examining it again myself. ‘Granted, I look like I could do with a shave, too. But Rufus is the nearest thing I have to a brother, at least in my father’s eyes. I’m also certain he’s the favourite.’
‘The dog?’
‘You don’t have the monopoly on pet-sitting, you know.’ I quirk a brow in an inciting fashion. ‘What do you think the dog door was for?’
Whether she suddenly believes me, thinks I’m ridiculous, or just wants to shut me up, I find her fists curled in my shirt as she tips onto her toes to press her mouth against mine.
As a way to silence me, it’s effective. As a way to avoid a public indecency charge, not so much, as my other hand find her hips and slide to her round arse to I pull her against my aching cock.
Was that her moan or mine?
‘I want you.’ Her, that was definitely her whisper as she feeds her hands around my neck.
My fingers are on her arse, tight and unforgiving, squeezing and kneading as I pull us closer—impossibly close for two people still fully clothed—my hips working almost of their own accord.
‘If you don’t stop rubbing yourself against me, you’ll get me right here against the car.’ As though I’d just delivered an invitation, she feeds her hand between us, placing her palm flat on my swollen cock. ‘Fuck.’
My response is more rough gasp than word as I tear my mouth from hers and rest my forehead against her neck. ‘We shouldn’t, not here, but I want you. I want to fuck you so hard they’ll hear your cries in the club. Fuck you so hard you’ll feel me all weekend.’
‘My,’ she purrs, ‘what a dirty mouth you have.’
‘All the better to eat you with. Is that the response you were waiting for?’ Despite my best intentions, I appear to have angled myself to mostly shield her from view as my fingers slip under the hem of her dress.
‘Oh.’ Her exhalation is a soft sigh, those caramel eyes blink languidly as her fingers move to the zipper of my pants.
‘Here?’ The word sounds rusty as though my voice has been long unused. As I wait for her answer, I trail my index finger up the inside of her thigh. I try to keep my movements on the right side of an R rating.R for rub, ride, and release. All things I’m aching for as her tongue darts out to wet her kiss-swollen lips, her teeth dragging against them as though she’s still considering the answer to my question.
But I can’t afford to wait, cutting off her answer with a kiss because hearing it could start something that would be finished to neither of our satisfactions. The Vanquish doesn’t have a back seat or the kind of space I need for the plans I have for her. Not that this stops her hand from sliding through my open zipper.
‘Fuck.’
My body bows forward with the curse, my forehead on her shoulder as I breathe through the rush.The last time a girl touched my cock al fresco? Fuck, I can barely remember my name, never mind that bit of information.
