Page 99 of Holding Penalty

A hint of cologne that he put on before we left, the citrus and woodsy smell making my blood heat with every inhale.

I remember the way he dipped me low on the dance floor at the end of the last song the band played, dizziness and endorphins flooding my brain when he lifted me back up and I plastered myself to his heaving chest. A wave of arousal washes over me at the memory, pinching my nipples and gathering wet heat between my thighs.

“Pull over,” I say to Nash, succumbing to the idea that just entered my mind before I can think better of it.

“Huh?”

“Pull over.”

He does so, maneuvering the car onto the dusty dirt shoulder of the long, empty country road.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

I answer him by leaning over and pressing my lips to his, plunging us into a consuming kiss. There’s no finesse or gentleness as my lips lap at his, quickly drawing his bottom one between my teeth and biting it.

He groans into my mouth. His tongue presses between my lips and tangles with my own. Our lips and tongues gorge themselves on our feel and taste. Just when I wish he would, Nash’s hands grip my hips, and he lifts me and settles me on his lap, where I feel his throbbing cock pressing against the confines of his denim.

His lips drag a hot trail along my jaw and neck, his sharp stubble scraping against my skin in the most delicious way.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps in my ear. A shiver sweeps through me at the word he’s never called me before. I wouldn’t mind hearing a lot more of it. “You’re making it hard as fuck to wait until we get home.”

“Let’s not wait, then,” I whisper into the over-heated truck cabin as his stubble brushes against the most sensitive part of my neck.

His cock jumps in his pants, hitting the seam of my jeans as I straddle him.

“Right here?” he asks, excitement and arousal ringing in the question.

“In the back,” I say. “We still have the blanket in here.”

I’m looking at the shopping bag tucked behind the passenger seat. We went shopping for a couple household odds and ends about two weeks ago, and I spotted a quilt I really liked. I’m thanking my lucky stars I never ended up bringing it in the house. Maybe there was something in the back of my mind that knew it could be useful keeping it in the truck for a time like this.

A tortured groan pulls from Nash’s throat. “Baby, are you seriously asking me to fuck you in the bed of my truck on the side of the road?”

There’s that word again. Baby. Sparks riot through my bloodstream.

“If that’s a little too naughty for your strait-laced sensibilities⁠—”

Nash cuts off my tease by kicking his driver’s side door open and swinging us both out. I gasp a laugh and curl my legs around his waist for stability as he hops out of his seat and walks us to the tailgate.

He lets it down and sets me on it, our lips still working against each other’s. I remember the last time I sat on his tailgate, wearing my wedding dress, when Nash got down on one knee and proposed. A sentimental warmth curls through me at the memory. It wrenches the desire for Nash that I have right now up a couple more notches.

I scoot back on my butt, curling my hands into the fabric of Nash’s shirt and pulling him deeper into the truck bed along with me.

“If we get arrested, I’m telling them it was your idea,” Nash teases as I lie down, his broad frame looming over me.

Nash’s cowboy hat is jaunty on his head from our messy kiss. Above him, the moon is silvery and bright, with wispy clouds swimming over it. The air is still and humid, carrying a sticky heat that only makes me more eager to get both of us out of these clothes.

I’m pretty sure no one else is going to be driving up or down this road at this time of night. Nash and I have driven it several times, and we rarely pass another car even during the day. But the possibility adds an edge of danger that sharpens the excitement and thrill pounding through me.

“If you do that, I’ll flirt with the cops to get out of it and leave you to take all the charges,” I tease back before snagging his bottom lip in my teeth again.

A growl of jealousy rumbles through him, his chest vibrating against my tits with the deep sound.

“I’ll take full responsibility, then,” Nash says wryly, kicking off his boots. “I’ll take a public indecency charge over seeing my wife flirt with another man any day of the week.”

Our clothes get stripped off in a whirlwind of tangled limbs. We spread the blanket out on the bed of the truck, and I press my hands onto the hard slab of Nash’s chest to push him onto his back.

I reach for the cowboy hat at our side and drop it onto the top of my head before I swing my leg over Nash’s hips and straddle him.