Then he felt her relax and her arms slide slowly about his neck, making him pull her against him as hard as he could, the stupid centre consol digging into his lower ribs and preventing him from feeling her body properly against his as he kissed and kissed her, shuddering, wanting her so much it sucked the air from his lungs.
‘I don’t want to go to bed,’ she whispered. ‘But I like your car.’
It took fully ten seconds for him to credit the evidence of his ears, wishing he could see the expression in her clear blue eyes. Ten seconds of listening to his blood pounding in his ears. ‘Here?’ It seemed a long, long time since he’d had sex in a car. Itwasa long time. He glanced at the steering wheel, the bulky consol, the automatic gear shift. His heart flailed about in the astounding knowledge that she seemed to want him, too. ‘Let’s go somewhere a lot more comfortable. With a bed.’
Instantly, she shook her head. ‘A hotel, without baggage and a prior booking? Running the gauntlet of desk clerks trying to hide their titters? Between here and there I’ll get cold feet.’
Personally, he felt the clerks could go to hell; hiding titters was in their job description. But he desperately didn’t want her to get cold feet because, right now, she was so hot, plastered against him so that he could feel every beat of her heart. Even so, her words made him admit, reluctantly, ‘If you’re not sure perhaps we ought not –’
‘It’s been a long time since Gareth and I …met in the middle, too. And I don’t think I’ve ever had sex in a car,’ she mused.
He groaned, willingly disconnecting with reality, tightening his arms so that her breasts pushed against him in a way that killed his last gentlemanly inclination. ‘It’ll be easier in the back – No, hang on, not here.’ Limbs like rubber, he started up the car, pulled out into the road then backed up, swinging past the end of the cemetery wall and into a grassy track that ran beside it. Back, back and back, until they were fifty yards from the road.
In gallant mode, he raced around the car to open her door but, typically, by the time he got there she’d opened the door perfectly well for herself and was sliding into the back seat, leaving him to run a fruitless circuit of the vehicle, through the grass and nettles like an idiot, to reach the other door and fall in beside her.
The back seat was cold and the heat they’d begun to generate hadn’t made the switch of venue.
With a nervous movement, she flicked back her hair.
Her hair was beautiful. He put out his hand to touch, stroke, slowly, from the crown of her head, feeling the silk slide beneath his palm until he reached the nape of her neck and could gather it into his fist and pull her gently, experimentally, to see if she’d come to his kiss. He watched her eyes close and her lips part as, slowly, tentatively, she did.
And then desire was a hot explosion and he heard her whimper as he kissed her too hard, threading his hands underneath her to drag her onto his lap, thrusting against her, running his hands over her bare legs and pulling her dainty sandals from her feet, touching each toe with his fingertips, breathing hard. The world outside the car spun away. He wished the seats in front weren’t such an unaccommodating barrier, that the roof of the car wasn’t bearing down, or the width of the car would allow him to lie her down and savour every inch of her body. And that it wasn’t nearly dark. He wished he had all the space and light he wanted to undress her slowly and explore everything delicious that he had in his hands.
But it wasn’t going to be like that. Not this time. He could wriggle off only some of her clothing because they were, after all, in a public place in their purple velvet evening and he couldn’t discount the damage potential of someone walking up the track. But, on the other hand, he wanted her too much to call a halt.
He tried not to hurry. He desperately wanted to enjoy the moment, threading his fingers in her sinuous hair while he fed from the softness of her mouth and she clutched fistfuls of his shirt and got breathless. He examined the patterns of her spine and loved the softness of the nape of her neck. But his hands were programmed with their own course and in no time he was establishing that her pretty red buttons sprang open quite co-operatively, and that her breasts were cool and mobile and wonderful in his hands. He stroked her until her composure broke and she began to use her entire body to stroke him back.
Her sweet mouth inflamed him almost as much as hauling out her knickers from beneath her skirt. He went half-mad when she let her head fall back so that he could nibble at her throat, loved her erratic breathing, her clutching fingers.
‘Don’t stop,’ she whispered.
‘No longer possible,’ he gasped.
He had forgotten how it felt to want somebody so desperately that he ached, arched, gasped, groaned, reached, lifted, slid …there.
Sex had never satisfied him more.
Every limb heavy. Alive. Satiated. Replete. Complete. His heart slowing into a languorous, after-sex rhythm.
Her skirt was still gathered around her waist. His legs were uncomfortably confined both from her wonderful hot weight and from lack of space. If they’d gone to a hotel they would be stretched out together beneath the sheets, now, revelling in naked afterglow. He’d be able to feel the softness of her stomach and the firmness of her hips pressed against him, warmth against warmth, flesh against flesh. But he could put up with what he had.
At least, as hemmed in as they were, every inch of her was hot against every inch of him. ‘Fucking hell,’ he breathed. He meant to say:that was fantastic, that was wonderful, you were incredible. But all that made it out was, ‘Fucking hell. Fuckinghell.’
‘Mm.’ Her cheek squashed against his shoulder, her breath warm on the side of his neck.
He stroked her back, admiring the milky gleam of her skin in the glimmer of the moon, kissing the top of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair, hardly able to believe what had just happened.
She sighed. ‘I suppose I ought to go back for my car.’ She didn’t move.
‘Of course. I’ll take you.’ Neither did he.
‘In a minute.’
‘Yes. Soon.’
She yawned without lifting her face from the pillow of his shoulder and her hair tickled his chin. Then she shivered. Feeling around in the darkness, he located his jacket and slid it around her shoulders.
She straightened, to snuggle into it, humming with pleasure. Her hair spilled around her shoulders and her breasts. ‘You do like leather.’
