Page 96 of Playing for Keeps

I sat there for a second, grinning like an idiot. Emma had been in Toronto since last summer, and by now she’d found her people – friends who got her, who made her laugh. It made me weirdly proud, seeing her settle in like that.

“Of course, baby,” I said, already turning the key. “I’ll text you when I’m in the parking lot.”

By the time I pulled up outside the club, the night air was a bit sharp. My headlights flashed over groups of people crowding the sidewalk, laughing and shouting for cabs. I sent her a quick text: I’m here.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and there she was.

Emma stepped out into the light of the streetlamp, pulling her jacket tighter. Her hair was a little tousled and her cheeks were flushed. She spotted me right away, and her big smile hit me straight in the chest.

God, she was beautiful.

She walked toward the truck, still giggling at something one of Simon’s friends said behind her. The music spilled out before the door thudded shut. I couldn’t stop watching her; she just looked so happy and carefree. She got in, bringing with her a draft of cold air and the familiar scent that was all her. She leaned over, gave me a quick kiss, and laughed against my mouth.

“Hey, Max.”

“Hey, you,” I teased, as I brushed a strand of hair from her face. “How much did you drink?”

She held up two fingers, her expression deadly serious. “Two whole cocktails.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “Two whole cocktails, eh? Look at you, you wild thing.”

“They were stronger than I expected!” she said, giggling again, her head tipping back against the seat. “But I’m fine. Just… warm. I heard about the game. Congratulations!”

“Thanks, baby.”

I watched her out of the corner of my eye as I pulled away from the curb. Her eyes were sharp and completely focused on me. She wasn’t drunk, just tipsy and glowing. I tightened my grip on the wheel. Christ, the way she was looking at me – like I was the only thing she wanted tonight – nearly undid me right there.

“Emma,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to take advantage.”

Her hand slid down my thigh, warm through the denim. “I know exactly what I want.”

That look in her eyes was clear. Intentional.

My restraint snapped somewhere between the third and fourth block. I didn’t say another word, just threw the truck into gear and hunted for the first dark, quiet side street I could find.

The second the truck was parked, the air shifted, thick with heat and want. I made sure the doors were locked, and then it was just her and me. She gave me that look – the one that always meant trouble – and before she could say something smart, I kissed her, rough and hungry, as I dragged her onto my lap. Her skirt rode up, heat pressing right where I was already hard and aching.

“Emma,” I rasped, gripping her hips. “We’re in my truck.”

She smirked, breathless. “Then don’t waste time.”

Fuck.

I caught her mouth again, devouring her, while I slid my hands under her skirt, pulling her underwear down her thighs. She wriggled out of them and tossed them somewhere into the dark. When I slid my fingers over her, she felt hot and slick, and I nearly lost it.

“Already so wet for me,” I muttered, kissing down her throat as she rubbed against my hand. She moaned, sharp and needy, the sound filling the truck and fogging up the windows faster than the heat. Her warm hands slid under my shirt, fumbling at my belt.

I needed her.

Now.

One-handed, I shoved my jeans down just enough, rolling on a condom. She was still rocking against me, her lips swollen from my kisses.

“Sit on me,” I ordered.

Her answering grin was wicked. “So bossy again.”

And then she slowly and deliberately sank down on me, and I swear I blacked out. The tight, wet friction of her surrounding me was too much, and I buried my face in her neck, groaning her name. It wasn’t just the sex. It was that she wanted me. Fully.