Her fingers slowly unzipped his slacks as he recited all the reasons this was a bad idea. Then her hands went further south and his dick prayed she’d ask him to come out and play, because he’d clearly hadn’t gotten the memo that this was not happening.
Not here. Not now. Not like this.
No. If they were going to do this, if they were going to go here, it wouldn’t be a spur of the moment, to hell with it all, frantic sexcapade in the front seat of his SUV. It would be a planned, thought-through sextravaganza that started with a proper date and ended with zero regret when the sun rose.
Not that he could regret anything with her, but he knew she would. And that was enough to clear some of the fog.
“Els,” he whispered, and yup that was his voice about to slow them down. Which for the record he couldn’t figure out what he was saying. They’d been building to this moment for weeks. Years. And yet there he was about to slam on the brakes.
“Els,” he whispered again, and this time she pulled back, her eyes lust-hazed.
“More kissing, less talking,” she said, then gave his dick the stroke of a goddess. Her hand would slide down and give this little squeeze before starting back at the heart-stopping top, quickly finding her rhythm.
There was some moaning, probably from him, and groaning, most definitely from her, and then there was this tapping.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Slide. Squeeze. Moan.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Slide. Squeeze. Moan.
Tap. Tap.“Elsie? Are you in there?”
They both froze.
“Elsie?” the voice called out from the other side of the glass.
“Oh no,” she whispered. “It’s Claire.” Elsie looked at her top that was practically falling off her body, then at Rhett’s pants, which were all the way opened. “She can’t catch me.” Her eyes were wild and pleading. “Please, she can’t catch me.”
“Are you okay?” came the voice.
She slapped her hands over her mouth, glancing around as if there were a cloak of invisibility hidden somewhere in the back seat.
“Get down on the floorboard,” he said.
“What?”
“Do you trust me?”
Without hesitation she nodded and his heart nearly exploded with joy. In one swift move, Rhett pushed the seat all the way back and shoved her onto the floorboard in front of him.
She huffed with indignation. “This is not the time. There is no way I’m going to—”
“Evening,” he said as he rolled down the window just enough to see Claire. She was a buttoned-up socialite who, he was pretty sure, belonged to his mom’s philanthropy group.
“Everything okay in there?” Claire tried her best to look inside. If years of being Margo Easton’s son hadn’t taught Rhett how to hide just about anything in plain sight, then evading the paparazzi had. Now, a half-naked, totally turned-on woman? This might be a challenge. But if there was anything he loved almost as much as a half-naked, totally turned-on woman, it was a challenge.
“Getting ready to head home.”
Claire narrowed her eyes. “But this is my party planner’s car.”
“I know, I’m taking the first load home for her.”
“You aren’t on my guest list. I know everyone on the list.” Claire gasped. “Are you a party crasher?”
“Just the help.”
